


Strawberry Shortcakes

by alekszova



Series: Sumo's [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Past Abuse, Rating May Change, yes we're back to this.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Connor and Gavin are planning to move in together, but all of the relationships in Connor's life seem to be changing in ways he doesn't know how to cope with.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Series: Sumo's [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1208766
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	1. January

**January 1st**

Connor sleeps in for once, but he still wakes up before Gavin does. Just before the sun fully rises, when it turns the room a soft shade of gray-blue that feels both cold and comforting at the same time. Although, he thinks, maybe most of that comfort is coming from the arm thrown around his waist, the warmth of the blankets, the feeling of Gavin’s face pressed against his bare shoulder. Maybe he finds comfort in the distant train or the sound of Gavin’s and Marshmallow’s snores, the purring of Mocha curled up next to his side. He doesn’t know, but he clings to this, this little moment that tells him he can’t let it go.

There are times when he questions himself on whether or not he could live without Gavin, without this. And sometimes that’s a very easy  _ no  _ and sometimes it’s a shuddering horrifying  _ yes.  _ If he had to, he’d figure it out. He’d be able to get over a breakup, he thinks. But it isn’t really about whether he  _ could  _ survive without him. If anything happened to Gavin—death, a breakup, something horrible that split them apart across the country or the world—Connor could survive without him.

He just would never want to. He doesn’t want to wake up another morning without this feeling. He doesn’t want to go another day without Gavin curled up beside him. He likes this. He likes the way Gavin’s hair is messy when he sleeps, the way he makes a tiny contented noise when Connor brushes his hand through it. He likes the way Gavin snuggles closer to him when he’s having a bad dream, though he could do without the nightmares that still linger between the both of them.

They’re better now. The nightmares aren’t as often. But they both still have them sometimes. He knows Gavin has them more often than he’ll admit, because they always wake Connor up. Gavin sometimes squeezes his side with his hand, nails digging into his skin and it pulls Connor awake and he’ll nudge him, just enough to wake him, just enough to let the dream slip away. But he’s learned that it isn’t always best to force Gavin to talk about them. It can make the day less-than enjoyable. The forcing of these memories to the surface beyond just a dream that can be swatted away like a pesky fly.

Connor just wishes that sometimes he didn’t feel like he was part of the thing that was being pushed back. But it isn’t as if he tells Gavin about his own dreams. He doesn’t know how to word them usually. They’re mostly harmless. It’s the waking process that terrifies him. The dream itself isn’t scary—it’s the underlying feeling. Seeing a face in the crowd, being with someone he knows could kill him. Nothing happens in the dreams but Eddie is there, in the distance, or at his side, pretending to be someone good, like he had in the beginning. Sometimes they’re memories of the fonder moments, sometimes they memories of him and Gavin, but with a different face, a different voice, and Connor will wake with that paralyzing fear that if he moves, his reality will have been the dream all along, and Eddie is the one laying beside him.

But Eddie never held onto Connor the way Gavin does. He always had a grip around Connor like he could snap his neck if he wanted to. It wasn’t tight, it wasn’t vicious, but it was the threat underneath. It didn’t need to be voiced and it didn’t need to be proven. The way Gavin clings onto him, even when it hurts, is full of love or comfort or a need to keep him safe, keep him near. Connor gets that—

There is nothing more terrifying than losing someone he loves.

  
  


“You watching me sleep again?” Gavin asks quietly, voice thick with exhaustion. He wants to roll back over and fall asleep, but his alarm is incessant and he can’t stay in bed for too long. He’d be tempted for a later shift if it didn’t mean giving up his time with Connor.

“Yes.”

“Creep.”

Connor smiles, and it makes Gavin turn his face against his arm, hiding his one in return. He feels sappy and stupid, especially after last night. They’re going to move in together. Gavin is going to be able to wake up to that smile every morning—as if he wasn’t practically already—there’s been little reason to have his own apartment ever since they were comfortable being around each other this much.

“I have to ask you something,” Connor says quietly.

“What? You don’t want to share a place?”

“No,” he says. “I do. That’s a different conversation.”

“What kind of different conversation?”

“A different one. Gavin, I have a serious question here.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Are you going to celebrate all the holidays again this year?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Some will stay, some will go,” Gavin replies. “Is that really an important question?”

“Well, I need to know whether or not I can make Niles jealous two years in a row. It’s very important.”

“What, Markus doesn’t do things for him?” Gavin asks. “Does he think he can skate by on his good looks? Or is Niles jealous of you? Is he gonna move to Detroit and try and take me away?”

“He told me he hated you, so I doubt it.”

“He hates me?” Gavin sits up, not sure if the shock in his voice is real or falsely heightened. “The fuck did I do to him?”

“You’re very full of yourself,” Connor says. His hands are reaching forward, tugging on Gavin’s shirt, trying to pull him back down, but he doesn’t move. “You’re the one that skates by on his good looks.”

“After all those holidays and all those dumb ass presents, and you think I’m skating by on good looks? Take a look in the mirror, baker boy.”

Connor laughs, sitting up, pulling him forward finally, pressing a kiss against his lips, “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just one of those people that doesn’t exactly approve of boyfriends.”

“He’s your second dad. He’s Hank number two. What if we got married? Would he approve of a husband?”

“I doubt it.”

“Nobody is ever going to be good enough for you in their eyes, huh?”

Connor shakes his head, “But you are. Don’t let them fool you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m very sure. After the holidays, Hank and Niles both very reluctantly liked you. Just a little bit.”

“And you?” Gavin asks. “Are you reluctantly liking me?”

“Very much so.”

“I knew it. It was all a lie. You just used me for presents and an excuse to bake more.”

  
  


**January 5th**

“I have a dilemma,” Chloe says, leaning against the counter, her cat mug held close to her chest. It’s long since gone cold, though Connor knows she doesn’t care. She hardly ever drinks it. Most of the time she just pours the cup to hold, nursing it during Hank’s early morning meetings and abandoning it once it’s over.

“What’s your dilemma?”

“North’s birthday is in October. I don’t know what to do for it.”

“It’s January, Chloe.”

“Yes, and the last two years I didn’t think of what to get her until August and you know what happened? I ended up getting her coffee beans that she doesn’t even use because she comes here every morning to see me. So what’s the point, I ask you?”

“You’re panicking.”

“She hated her Christmas present. Of course I’m panicking.”

“She hated it?”

“I got her a waffle iron, Connor. She already has a waffle iron.”

“Was it at least a nice shape?”

“No. It was a square. She had a circle before,” she says. Her eyebrows knit together, her hand coming out to slap his shoulder. “Stop smiling.”

He didn’t even know he was, “I’m sorry. Maybe you should just get her a gift card?”

“A gift card is  _ thoughtless _ , Connor. Has Gavin ever gotten you a gift card?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’s thoughtless.”

“Jesus,” Connor whispers. “I never knew he was. Does this mean I have to break up with him now?”

“Yes. This is all your fault, you know.”

“It is?”

“You can bake him things. I can’t bake North anything.”

“And baking is better?”

“Baking is effort and time. You spend six hours on something and it shows. Two minutes in the grocery checkout line and remembering you didn’t get your girlfriend a gift so you grab a random fifty dollar card to Wal-Mart is worthless.”

“I thought it was thoughtless?”

“You’re teasing me and I don’t like it,” Chloe says. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll take this seriously,” he takes the cup from her hands, sets it on the counter beside her before holding her hands in his. “A gift card isn’t thoughtless. Not entirely. Of course you can make her something or you can buy something she’ll love, but a gift card at least gives her the ability to pick out what she wants so you don’t have the issue of getting her a second waffle iron in a more boring shape than a circle.”

“But I  _ should  _ know. She’s my girlfriend. I should know what to get her.”

“You think I know what to get Gavin?” Connor asks, leaning forward, lowering his voice. “I have no idea what to buy him for holidays and birthdays. I wing it. I usually put all my effort into a fancy cake because it distracts from the bad gifts I pick out.”

“But I have no distraction, Connor.”

“What happened to ‘it’s the thought that counts’?” Connor asks. “At least you’re trying.”

“Not hard enough. Not if I get her a gift card. Not when she shows me up every year on my birthday with some incredible gift. I’m starting to hate her.”

“Why don’t you wait closer to June before you start having panic attacks about October birthdays?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Yes,” he says, returning to his work. Pressing fondant out in a thin layer, readying to create little roses that will decorate an engagement party’s cake. “It’s stressful and it’s horrible. But if all else fails, you can just wear some lingerie and use that as your distraction method instead.”

“Oh, look how far you’ve come,” Chloe says with a smile. “When you and Gavin got together, you practically killed me for recommending the same thing.”

“Yes, now I’m just like you. Using sex as a distraction from horrible presents.”

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you ever going to talk to me about it?” Chloe asks, sidling up next to him. “You were on the phone with me all night talking about your first date together.”

“It’s private.”

“You talked to me for an hour about holding his hand, Connor. Was it bad?”

“No. Just awkward,” he says, he can feel his face burning. “Go on, Chloe, not all of us want to talk about our sex lives. You have a register to watch, you know.”

“Oh, Hank likes taking the lunch rush. He gets to yell at people and he’s not in danger of being fired for it.”

_ “Go, Chloe.” _

“Okay. Fine. I’m sorry, Connor.”

She leaves, the doors swinging open and closing behind her as Connor goes back to work, trying to focus on the petals, on the leaves. It’s not that he can’t tell her about it. It’s just—

Embarrassing. There are days he regrets it and there are days he’s glad it happened the way it did, in some sense. If it hadn’t, he doesn’t know if they would’ve ever slept together. He thinks it always would’ve happened like that, with him full of emotion and on the brink of crying and terrified. Terrified that something would go wrong.

He knows Gavin wouldn’t do anything to him. But until they were actually together, he spent the entirety of their relationship worrying that there would be a snap in Gavin just like there was a snap in Eddie. When something went violent and tumultuous and he wouldn’t know how to escape it.

It’s different now. He’s stopped Gavin part-way through sex enough times to know that Gavin would never ignore him when he said no. Gavin has always listened when he said he didn’t want the sex to be too rough, or he didn’t like dirty talk or kissing in public was something Connor needed to be the one to initiate. There are tiny rules that keep him safe. Gavin follows them, Connor bends them, but they’re never broken. There have been too many times where they have been broken.

  
  


**January 6th**

He stands back beside Daniel, watching Chloe pass out the cake pops to the kids. They’re all decorated like Sumo’s face--a small event to celebrate the new year. It’s a little late, thrown together at the last minute over the course of the last week when Daniel suggested it. Connor has to wonder if it was because he had fun adding the little ears to each cake-pop, color-coding them to the flavor inside. Sumo’s with pink patches for strawberry, dark brown for chocolate, beige for vanilla. They could’ve made more, if they had more time, but Connor couldn’t seem to get the hang out of adding the little noses. He kept crushing the face.

He steps forward, changing out the empty tray of strawberry Sumo pops as he watches the kids run back to their booths with their parents and he feels something click inside of him.

“Shit,” he whispers.

“You okay, Connor?”

“I’m fine,” he says, turning away from Chloe, brushing past Daniel and into the kitchen.

He’s fine.

He’s  _ fine. _

  
  


Connor comes home early, when Gavin is still setting up the blanket fort, and something in him narrows down on annoyance. Of course the day Gavin tries to surprise him, he’s home early.

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddle up day.”

“Oh. Is that today?”

“Fuck if I know. Might be one of those shitty holidays that’s like the first Friday of August or some shit. I didn’t check. But it was the sixth last year.”

“Right. I remember.”

“Come here,” Gavin says, reaching a hand out to him. “Help me.”

“What, old man can’t put up a blanket for by himself anymore?”

“You can’t make fun of me for being an old man until I’m forty.”

“You’re almost there.”

“I know,” he says, his voice full of disgust. “And you’re still a baby-faced idiot. Come help, Con.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Gavin’s hands drop his side, “A blanket fort. Come on. Isn’t that reward enough?”

“Am I sharing it with you?”

“…Y-Yes?”

“Okay. Maybe it’s worth it. Can I talk to you first, though?”

“I need the safety of the blanket fort if whatever you’re going to say is serious.”

“Does the blanket fort have magic powers that helps keep things from being too awful?”

“Of course. Do you remember last year?”

Connor smiles to himself, nods, “Yes. Okay. I see your point.”

  
  


It’s unfortunate, the fact that the tent is taken over by the animals before either of them can get inside. Marshmallow is getting too big, fluffy fur and wagging tail taking up half the bed while Connor and Gavin are in the kitchen, making popcorn or pretending to make popcorn, because Gavin’s hand keeps trailing up Connor’s shirt and touching this spot on his side that always makes Connor stop what he’s doing and curve against him, and he really likes the face Connor makes when he does it, with his eyes falling closed and a slow exhale passed between his lips.

They part when the popcorn finishes, Connor pushing him back, a hand on his shoulder that tells him  _ not yet  _ which is always hard to tell if it really means  _ not tonight.  _ He always makes it clear when he knows the answer, but it’s not always easy for Gavin to get it at first.

They sit on the outside of the fort, Mocha taking up what little space is left on the bed, stretched out so fully that there’s little hope in pretending they could’ve fit one of them.

“Gavin—”

“We aren’t in the fort.”

“I know, but we need to talk.”

“About moving in together?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “You said your lease was up at the end of the month, right?”

“Right.”

“Mine’s in June.”

“Okay?”

“I think,” Connor says quietly. “Maybe we should consider moving somewhere else then.”

“You want to move out of here?” Gavin asks, glancing up to the space. “You love the kitchen.”

“I do. But we need more space. For them,” Connor says. “And the two of us… I don’t know. I think it would be better to start somewhere new together. It can be  _ our  _ place instead of  _ my  _ place.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

Connor smiles tightly, nodding, “Yep.”

He can’t tell if it’s the truth. They are adapting too quickly to each other. Their tells hidden underneath layers that they hadn’t had before.

When they first got together, neither of them were well versed in keeping things like this hidden from one another. It was more about letting something go because they didn’t know if they were allowed to push on the subject yet. And then they learned how to cover themselves up from each other. They’re in this unknown territory where they’ve learned to hide things from the other, and Gavin can’t be all that mad at Connor for figuring out how to slip things past him. Gavin does the same thing in return.

Maybe it’s easier to let things go because he knows both of them are better. Maybe not healed, maybe not perfect, but better. They have help outside of each other. Their trauma isn’t something that’s only for each other to hold.

“Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Connor smiles, leans over to him and presses a kiss against his lips, “You, too.”

Something is wrong, Gavin thinks. But he can’t figure out what it is, and now he can’t tell if he should push or if maybe Connor just needs tonight, watching movies and eating popcorn and being together to help it, or if it’s something they should talk about. But there is something wrong. 

  
  


**January 7th**

**Gavin:** hey. ;)

**Connor:** I’m busy rn I can’t talk

**Gavin:** that’s a-okay babe

**Gavin:** can u come over tomorrow? Help me pack? If I don’t start now I might not finish everything in time

**Connor:** Do you need me to bring anything?

**Gavin:** just u and ur booty ;)

**Gavin:** and some boxes.

**Gavin:** and some tape.

**Gavin:** doesn’t hank have like a truck or something? He seems like he would have a truck

**Connor:** He does not have a truck. North does. I’ll ask if I can borrow it.

**Connor:** Is that all? North’s truck, the boxes, and the tape?

**Connor:** Oh and me and my booty?

**Gavin:** yes ;)

**January 8th**

“Your favorite holiday in the entire world is back,” Gavin says, holding a robe out to him when he opens the door. “Come on. I got strawberry scented bubble bath and it’s not going to waste.”

“You really should be packing up your place, Gavin.”

“Fuck the damn boxes and get in the bathtub with me, will you?”

“You conned me,” Connor says, leaning against the wall. “You’re a lying, sneaky conniving little prick. I borrowed North’s truck for you, Gavin.”

“I did list you first when I told you what I needed. I thought it was clear.”

Connor sighs, setting down the boxes, letting Gavin take his hand and drag him into the apartment. There are quite a few things already packed up, bags of things to get rid of. Gavin did do  _ some _ work before he invited Connor over. He just did the bare minimum.

“I’m only accepting this because it’s Bubble Bath Day and we can’t disappoint whoever created it,” Connor says. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

  
  


Connor makes Gavin sit in front of him in the tub, even though he misses the feeling of Gavin’s hands in his hair, combing through with shampoo. He wants to hold onto him and he doesn’t know if he can keep back the thoughts in his head if Gavin is the one doing this instead.

Connor doesn’t know if this is a good idea.

He’s panicking. He’s panicking like Chloe was panicking. The future is so far away. There’s no reason to be worrying about things so far in advance, but now Connor can’t stop his thoughts from jumping towards what happens after they move in together. He’s trying to force himself to take it one step at a time, to live in the moment instead of five years from now when they’ve gone well past the point of being able to talk about the important things.

They haven’t passed their second year anniversary, yet but he thinks it’s likely too soon to bring up the subject of marriage, but it’s too late, too. He can’t ask about it now. He’s committed to Gavin. He loves Gavin. He cant tell if Gavin was serious when he acted like it was a possibility a week ago, and he can’t help but remember when Gavin brought it up on a date, either. They were both said like jokes, but they both held that sort of layer of possibility, too. It’s hard to tell with Gavin. He makes so many jokes that are half-serious because he’s too embarrassed to ask for something that it all sort of falls into the unknown.

It’s not even really the marriage part that’s his concern. He could do without them getting married. He’s fine not getting married. But he thinks about kids. He keeps thinking about kids, but he can’t understand why. Connor can’t tell what he wants. There are days when the concept of just being a dad and a husband sounds like all he wants. There are times like these, when Gavin is leaned against him, trailing a hand along his leg, and he thinks that he’s content having just Gavin for the rest of his life.

It’s all too soon to talk about. It’s all too late to do anything if they go separate ways. There are longer relationships that break up due to things left undiscussed, but he doesn’t want to break up. He doesn’t want to know Gavin’s answer to the question of  _ do you want kids? do you want to get married?  _ and realize his own answer is the opposite and they’re both unwilling to move. He doesn’t want the knowledge that might break them in half, and he can’t see it going any other way.

Connor loves his life right now. He’s terrified of it changing. He’s terrified of the things he wants to change always staying cemented into stone, too. He’s terrified of standing still and not progressing any further than this. He’s terrified that he doesn’t know what he wants or who he is and it’s all just building up and overflowing and tangled and messy and--

He’s lost. He’s lost and all he knows for certain is that Gavin can’t leave, too.

  
  


**January 13th**

**North:** I need your cat tomorrow no questions asked

**Gavin:** how the fuuuck did you get my number

**Gavin:** ++for WHY?

**Gavin:** did you ask connor abt this? Its his place

**North:** you borrowed my truck I don’t need to explain myself

**North:** what part of no questions asked don’t you understand

**Gavin:** ok no questions

**Gavin:** except one

**Gavin:** do you need to borrow marshmallow too? She’s feeling left out

**North:** yes

  
  


**January 14th**

“This wasn’t a holiday I intended on continuing into the next year, North,” Gavin says, watching her carefully.

“This isn’t for you.”

“Then who’s it for?”

She pauses, stepping away from Mocha, who stands still like she’s been paralyzed by the costume. Little black cape and bright yellow bat-symbol on the front.

“Chloe.”

“Are you copying me now?”

“Shut up,” she says, landing a soft punch against his shoulder. “Maybe so. Not like it was a great idea. You aren’t the king of romance. We aren’t all bowing down to you because you wowed Connor last year. He’s easily impressed.”

“Right. Of course.”

“If anyone is the king of romance, it’s Hank.”

_ “Hank?” _

“Another story, another time, Gav. Mocha is going to go into a coma if I don’t take that off of her soon,” she says, stepping forward, lifting up her phone to take the picture.

Gavin crosses his arms, stays back to watch her. Mocha does look cute in the costume, though she acts as if she can barely move. North leans back on her heels, her phone dropping in her lap.

“Can I ask you something, Gavin?”

“I suppose.”

“Next week, do you want to go out?”

“Excuse me? Like a date? North, I’m flattered, but—”

“Oh fuck off,” she says, standing up. “I don’t have any friends here, okay? I feel like I’m suffocating Chloe. Do you want to hang out? We can go to a bar and get drunk or something. I might need it to be around you.”

He offers a forced smile, doing little to hide it’s fake nature, “Sure.”

  
  


**January 15th**

It’s not something Connor was very good at when he first started working at Sumo’s, but it’s become something fun in the last year. There’s something appealing about stacking the layers of a cake together, creating it taller and taller, rods pushed down through the middle for support. He always got them lopsided, always had to figure out a way to right them or use a knife to help even up the edges. But frosting cakes and putting neat little decorations on the top, around the edges, is calming. Turning just a cake into a piece of art.

In the middle of last year, Sumo’s started taking more online orders. More cakes to be delivered to parties, more anxiety-ridden phone calls trying to clarify they meant to order only 30 cupcakes and not 300. The packaging is Connor’s favorite part, though. Putting strawberry cookies in brown sacks, carefully wrapped in plastic, sealed shut like an envelope.

There’s a new delivery girl that’s become one of Chloe’s new friends. When she’s waiting to pack up the van, she sits by the counter and talks to her. Connor sometimes spies on them, the door partially open, watching the two converse.

It’s then that he sees him walk into the cafe, his heart dropping, the door slamming closed in a loud thud as he stumbles backwards.

“What was that?” Daniel asks.

“Nothing,” Connor says, turning on his heels, meeting him by the counter. “Nothing. Do you have the orders for tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” he says, sliding the clipboard away from him. “What’d you see when you were out there spying?”

“Someone I know.”

“Gavin?”

He tilts his head, grimaces, “Close.”

“Close?”

“His brother’s here.”

“Oh. You mean the one that wanted to have an incestuous threesome with you?”

“Yes. That one. But don’t say it like that. He didn’t know I was dating Gavin.”

“Hm, what does that tell you?” Daniel asks. “Gavin never even showed a picture of you to him.”

“They aren’t close.”

“So do you think him being in the cafe is a coincidence or do you think he’s stalking you?” Daniel asks quietly, lowering his voice. “Maybe he’s going to steal you away from Gavin?”

“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s slimy.”

“Slimy?”

“He offered a threesome when I said I was in a relationship,” Connor says, snapping the clipboard out of Daniel’s hand. “I would call that slimy.”

“Is he cute?”

“No.”

“You’re lying. You’ve got that same look Chloe gets when she says she’s not crushing on the delivery girl.”

“Chloe’s in a relationship. So am I. We are both telling the truth,” Connor says, scanning the orders on the sheet. He pauses, looking up at Daniel. “Chloe has a crush on the delivery girl?”

“Oh, absolutely. You think anybody orders the cherry tarts but her? Chloe gives them to her like gifts.”

Connor holds the clipboard tight against his chest. It’s stupid. It’s impossible. But if it’s just a crush—

Chloe and North are solid. They’ve been solid since they got together. There was nothing that Chloe has ever said to him that made it seem like they might be in trouble, and he doubts the bad gifts are to blame. And if Chloe and North are on shakey ground, what does that mean for him? What does that mean for Gavin?

“Get started on the walnut brownies, will you?” Connor says quietly. “They need to be delivered at five.”

  
  


He bops Connor on the nose with the end of the wooden spoon, bringing him back from wherever he was, his eyes blinking rapidly, looking to Gavin.

“What was that for?”

“I’ve been talking for ten minutes and you weren’t paying attention to me,” Gavin says.

“S-Sorry. What was it about?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. We can talk later. What’s wrong with you?”

“Daniel thinks Chloe has a crush on the new delivery girl.”

“Oh? What about her and North?” 

“They’re fine,” Connor says. “Daniel is an idiot. He’s projecting.”

“Daniel has a crush on the new delivery girl, then?” Gavin asks, tapping the spoon against his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” Connor says, taking the spoon from his hand. “Stop that.”

“Sorry. Is that what you’re worried about?” Gavin asks. “Nothing else?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird all month,” Gavin says, taking his free hand in his. “You still want to move in together, right?”

“Right,” he says. “I have to—I should pack some stuff up while I’m here.”

“Dinner’s going to be done in a few minutes, Con—”

“I’ll just throw some clothes in a bag, okay? I’ll be back.”

“O-Okay,” Gavin says, reaching out for him, missing just barely. He could move. He could still grab him. He could say something about the spoon that Connor is taking with him to the bedroom, but it feels stupid now. “Connor.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah,” Connor replies back, quiet. He doesn’t stop walking, he just disappears in the hallway, around the corner into Gavin’s room.

He leans back against the counter again, sauce for the pasta boiling beside him, telling him it’s already done, telling him he should just call Connor back in here and force him to eat, but now he feels the threat of tears behind his eyes and he can’t get himself to speak again.

_ Yeah.  _ Not  _ I love you, too.  _ But  _ yeah. _

  
  


**January 20th**

“I think me and Connor are going to break up,” Gavin says.

“Fucking cheers, man,” North replies, downing her glass, slamming it onto the counter. “Is that the kind of night we’re going to have?”

“I figured it was.”

“Yeah?” she asks. “Why?”

He thinks about Chloe. He thinks about Connor telling him about her crush. Or Daniel’s thoughts on the supposed crush. He’s not going to tell North. She either knows or she doesn’t, and it isn’t Gavin’s place. He doesn’t work at Sumo’s. He doesn’t see the interaction between Chloe and the delivery girl, and Connor seemed unwilling to believe it, which either means it’s completely untrue or—

Well, extremely possible, and Connor’s just in denial.

Gavin isn’t.

Connor hasn’t properly told him that he loves him since the end of the year. It’s always been short, careful answers, and he can’t tell if that’s because Connor’s thoughts are elsewhere or he’s too nervous to say it for some reason.

He’s been fairly good at controlling his own nerves over what’s happening. It’s a big change, but he’s making sure it doesn’t feel like it. Spending so much time at Connor’s place already helps. Packing slowly, over the course of a month, is making saying goodbye to his crappy little apartment a little easier. But the move symbolizes something else. One more step forward.

“Gavin?”

“I know you don’t like me. And we don’t talk that much. I just figured we’d spend the night complaining.”

“Are you complaining about Connor or are you complaining about the fact you might break up?”

“The latter.”

“Right. You’re the perfect boyfriend who doesn’t complain about his significant other.”

“Do you complain about Chloe?”

“No,” she says. “Well. She’s a mess. Like a chaotic disaster. But I love that about her.”

“So does Connor,” Gavin says.  _ So does the new delivery girl, probably. _

“Why do you think you two are breaking up? Is it a you thing or him? I thought he was asking you to move in?”

“He’s… out of it.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, North,” Gavin says, leaning back with an annoyed sigh. “If I knew, he’d be talking to me, and I could fix whatever the fuck is wrong. But I have no clue. He’s just—gone.”

“Yeah,” North says quietly. “I get that.”

  
  


It takes five seconds to kick off. It seems like it would take longer, really. But there’s a hand on North, a pick-up line half called out, the expression on North’s face shifting from upset to horrified and ashamed. It takes a second for Gavin to react, for a fist to be thrown, for a guy to land on the floor, for his buddy to take it all in.

In the span of five seconds, Gavin has made a decision he can’t undo, and he can’t bother regretting it. Nobody touches a girl like that without their permission. Nobody fucks with someone like that. The guy deserves the punch, but he knows it’s not going to end there. The beer bottle is hitting his face before he can do anything about it, glass crashing against his features and hot blood smeared across his face.

Gavin can feel himself shaking, and he knows this is bad, he knows this is horrible, because all he can remember when he lurches forward is that Connor is going to hate him for this. The promise he made has been broken in the span of five seconds but Gavin wouldn’t take it back. There’s no reason to think for even a second he should take it back.

Prick deserved it.

  
  


**January 21st**

“What the hell happened to you?” Connor asks, tipping his chin up, showing the cut and scrapes to the light, doing the same thing Gavin did when he got thrown out of the bar and parted ways with North. They’ll probably scar. “You need to go to a doctor.”

“I’m fine. I just got into a fight. That’s all.”

“You got into a fight?” Connor says, and his expression changes. Gavin thinks he sees disappointment there, underneath all the concern, but the concern is shifting now. It’s not for Gavin’s wellbeing, it’s for something else.

All Gavin had ever done when they got together was promise to not be like Eddie, promise to stop fighting, promise to leave his anger behind, and here it is again. He knows those are the thoughts passing through Connor’s head. He knows he’s settling on all the outcomes that go against what Connor wants.

“Can I explain it to you before you get mad at me?”

“I’m already mad at you.”

“I was protecting North’s honor. It didn’t work out too well.”

“You think North needed you protecting her?”

“No. Why do you think she has a black eye, too?”

“She has a black eye?” Connor sighs. “The two of you…”

“Trouble. I know. Can you at least pretend this is like a sexy heroic look, Connor?”

“No. I’m taking you to the hospital. You need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine, Con—”

“No. You won’t. Did you start it again?”

_ Again.  _ He says it like he was there all the other times it happened, even if they weren’t the things that left the scar across his nose that Connor so tentatively treats like a place he can heal his wounds from. Little kisses and little touches and they’re all gone now, the hand on Gavin’s chin isn’t holding it softly, he’s holding it like an angry mother, scolding her stupid child.

“Maybe,” Gavin says quietly. “It was a bottle, okay? It doesn’t even hurt. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Do you know how much bacteria—?” Connor sighs again. “You need antibiotics. When’s the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“Jesus, Connor,” he says pulling away roughly, stumbling backwards. “I’m not going to fucking get some new age disease because a guy hit me with a bottle. I was trying to help North. It’s fine.”

“You’re still going to the hospital.”

“Fine. I’ll go to the fucking hospital.”

“Gavin—”

“I’m going by myself. I don’t need you there.”

“Gavin,” Connor says, grabbing his wrist, pulling him to a stop. “Why are  _ you  _ mad at  _ me?” _

He bites his tongue. Bites back a hundred words. Bites back the stupid childish need to say  _ because you haven’t told me you loved me  _ because it sounds like whining, it sounds like he’s saying it as though he needs to hear it to believe it. But he  _ does. _ He needs to hear Connor say it. He needs to hear Connor be worried about him because he’s hurt and he wants someone told onto him and ask him if he’s okay, but Connor is just angry. He’s just furious that there was a fight ever to begin with. And Gavin gets it. He understands. But he needs to hear Connor reassure them they aren’t in trouble and that he’s reading too much into this three week silence between the two of them. But he can’t help but think if he brings it up, Connor will tell him all the things he doesn’t want to hear. That he doesn’t love Gavin anymore. That the move was a mistake. That everything is a mistake. They aren’t the couple they were because they jumped the gun and now there’s no going back.

And of course that’s how it would go. There’s no other possible way it could go. People don’t pick Gavin, they don’t stay with him, they don’t want him.

“I’ll take a taxi,” Gavin says, pulling further away from him, breaking Connor’s grip. “And don’t bother staying up, okay? I’ll be at my place tonight.”

“Gavin—”

“Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

  
  


**Connor:** can we talk?

  
  


He’s sore and broken and tired in the morning. All of the tears from late last night pulling him down further and further until he thinks there’s nothing left. He tries to pull the blankets around him tighter, tries to shut out the day, but he can’t. He has work. He has to get up. He has to carry on. He can’t mourn whatever argument happened last night. He has to be an adult. He has to be part of society instead of just himself.

But he curls up a little tighter, even though it hurts, and he lets himself steal another few minutes before he has to brush off the tears and the pain and move on.

  
  


**Connor:** Just talk to me, Gavin.

  
  


**Connor:** I’m coming over. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.

**Connor:** Can you please open your door? Don’t shut me out

**Connor:** Gavin please just open the door and talk to me.

**Connor:** fine I’ll go but please message me back. I’m worried aobut you.

  
  


**January 22nd**

**Connor:** I know you’re home please open the door

**Connor:** GAVIN PLEASE

**Connor:** I; m so so rry please just talk to me 

**Connor:** if you’re dead in there I’ll kill you. I’m not joking. youer scaring me. Please open your door. I just want to ta lk.

**Gavin:** not dead. Go away

  
  


**January 23rd**

The door opens, and Gavin knows he looks like a mess, but he can only ignore the texts, he can’t ignore the knocking. The neighbors will complain, and he knows Connor won’t give up. Not this time. He steps inside, setting a pie down on the countertop. For a moment, he looks calm. Perfectly normal. But Gavin can see the little things in his features. The way he walks, stiff and rigid like he’s going to break in half from the anger and this is the only way to control it.

“I know you’re pissed off at me—”

“You’re right,” Connor says, cutting him off.

“I just needed some time to think.”

“Okay. Have you thought? Are you going to talk to me now?”

Gavin bites his lip, his tongue, trying to make something more painful than the feeling in his throat, which is threatening to make him cry or make him scream, “What kind of pie did you bake?”

“Apple. I know it’s your favorite. And it’s—”

“National Pie Day, yeah.”

“I’m not here about the pie, Gavin.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to talk to me?” Connor repeats. “Or are you going to ask more questions about the pie?”

“I’m worried,” Gavin says quietly. “About us.”

“What do you mean? We had one fight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gavin says, scoffing. “It’s not just one fight. And you can’t just—you can’t just pretend that it was just some small thing, Connor. You—You treated me like I was some reckless imbecile that just wants to fight everyone I’m around. I can take care of myself.”

“That wasn’t what I was mad at you about. I mean, yes, it was, but—” Connor sighs. “You can’t just… get into fights, okay? You promised me you wouldn’t.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. There was a guy harassing North and I just—”

“You hit him without thinking?”

“Yeah.”

“ _ That’s _ the problem, Gavin. You didn’t think. You just hit.”

“He deserved it.”

“That’s not the point,” Connor says quietly.

He knows. Gavin knows that. He knows that even though both of them have been in violent environments, that have destroyed them from the inside out, that they have both reacted differently. Connor can’t be around it. He can’t watch certain movies, he avoids things in as much as possible. He shies away from it like he’s terrified. And Gavin—

It’s easy for him to fall back on it. It’s easy for him to hit and punch and hurt. It’s what he was taught.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Connor.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he says. “But, Con… you didn’t care.”

“What—?”

“You didn’t care that I was hurt, you just cared that I hit someone. Once you heard me say that I got in a fight at a bar, everything changed. You looked at me like—” he pauses. “You looked at me like I was vermin or something. And I’m sorry I hit someone, I just—You haven’t told me you loved me since the end of last year. You keep pulling away from me. And then you just didn’t give a shit because it didn’t matter if I was half dead, I started a fight and that’s all that mattered.”

“I didn’t realize—”

“No, and that’s the problem, right? You didn’t even notice,” Gavin sighs. “I think… we are in trouble.”

“Gavin—”

“I think we should take a break.”

“N-No,” Connor says, stepping over to him. “No. We’re not doing that. We’re not—”

“It’s not working, Connor. We can’t keep—”

“Gavin, I want to marry you.”

“You—You what?”

“I couldn’t tell you I loved you because I was worried that—that I didn’t know what I wanted with us or that we wouldn’t want the same thing I was terrified, you scare the shit out of me all the time.”

“Because you want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

Gavin takes a step back, needing to escape him, needing to get away. This is not what he thought Connor was going to say. This isn’t where he thought they were going, “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t handle how much I love you sometimes,” Connor whispers. “And I keep worrying that we don’t want the same things and we were eventually going to realize that and it would all break and I had—I just—I needed to think. I needed to figure out what I wanted.”

“And you want to marry me?”

“Yes. And I want kids and a house and a future and I don’t want to just live together, but I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted and I needed—I felt like I needed to make a decision before you forced me to.”

“What decision was I going to force you to make, Connor? Me or potentially having kids and a husband?”

“Yes.”

“And that was some ultimatum you ever thought I’d pose to you?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“So are you asking me to marry you right now?” Gavin asks, because the answer is on the tip of his tongue and it’s waiting and it’s pressing to say it. “Are you proposing to me?”

“No,” Connor replies, the word coming out like a laugh, and Gavin feels a part of him breathe a sigh of relief and another part of him drop in disappointment. “I just—It’s too soon now. But someday, yes, I’d like to ask you. I’d—I don’t know. This isn’t—I thought our conversation was going to go differently. You’ve flustered me.”

“You fucking think?” Gavin asks, and his own voice is laughing and he feels somewhere else entirely.

“So you want to get married someday?” Connor asks.

“Yes.”

“And kids?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then can we not break up? Can you give me a chance to tell you I love you again?”

“Well you baked me my favorite pie, so I guess.”

Connor laughs, and then it changes to a sob and back to a laugh again and he’s rushing forward, holding onto Gavin tightly, tears pressed into his skin when he kisses Gavin. Salty and wet and he knows it’s not just Connor that’s crying but him too and he feels stupid.

“I need you,” Connor says, his voice breaking. “To never ignore me like that again, okay? I need you to talk to me.”

“Fuck off. You need to talk to me, too.”

“Okay,” he laughs. “I’ll talk to you.”

“You scared the fuck out of me,” Gavin whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

Gavin sniffs, hiding his face against Connor’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, too.”

“I love you.”

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to stop crying. He needs to control his voice, “I love you, too.”

  
  


**January 29th**

It’s the last box, set in the back of Connor’s car, jammed in the midst of a dozen other ones struggling to stay in place and keep the window clear. Gavin curls up against Connor’s chest, resting against him, staying out in the cold even though the warm car waits for him. He needs to hold onto him for a second. He needs to let this physical comfort he craves be fulfilled.

He got the apartment a while back. It was the first place he ever really considered a safe home, and Connor had come along to prove that. It wasn’t just a few walls and a couple of doors. It was his home, it was the place him and Connor spent the night. It was the first place they had sex at, and Gavin doesn’t really want to let it go for just that. He told Connor his history, he divulged his secrets, he showed him his scars, the meaning of his tattoos. He realized how much he loved Connor there, letting it be a thing he blossomed and tended to, inside the bedroom. He had horrible phone calls with his brother and he’s been angry and bleeding and stitched himself up but they’re memories and they shaped him to be who he is.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

But at least he’s going with Connor. At least he has the one that helped create all the good ones, all the ones worth keeping.

“You okay?”

“I’m going to miss it. And you know, in a few months, when we get our place together and I’m not just crashing and taking up your living room with my dumb shit, you’re going to feel the same way.”

“Am I now?”

“Yes. And I’m going to be there for you. Whether you like it or not. So you better cry then so I don’t feel like a little lonely bitch for crying now.”

Connor cups his face, tipping his chin up and placing a careful kiss there, “I have a few months to learn how to cry on command, so no worries.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “And I have something for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Last week there—there was a holiday I wanted to celebrate. But then you got all sappy and shit with the marriage thing.”

“Yeah?”

Gavin pulls the letter from his pocket, pressing it in Connor’s hand. Words and feelings and some of the same things he said last year all bundled up in the span of two pages. He isn’t good with words. He can’t write the long letter that Connor wrote to him last year. He doesn’t know how to string them together. It’s easier, when it comes to Connor, sometimes. Speaking from the heart, as cheesy and as much as he hates it, is easier when he loves someone, and that’s really all it says. A second time over, an attempt to somehow capture this feeling in his chest and make it something Connor will properly understand.

“You don’t have to have sex with me after you read it like you did last time.”

“Shut up,” Connor says with a smile, taking the letter, holding it for a moment. “There’s no proposal in here, is there?”

“No. You’re right. It’s too soon. I need at least five years to get enough money to get you a good ring.”

“Only five years?”

“Oh, should it be ten?”

“At least ten.”

  
  


Connor lays in bed, reading the letter for the fourth time by the light of his phone. Gavin’s been asleep for a while, and Connor can’t stop consuming the words on the page over and over again. They’re cheesy and stupid at times, they make him want to cry at others.

Mostly, though, they make him regret the ten-year joke.

They make him wish that time would go on fast forward so that it would be an acceptable amount of years for the two of them to get married. The words on the page read like wedding vows. They read like the kind of wedding vows that Connor wishes he had thought of first.

_ Too soon. _

Absolutely too soon to get married.

He just wishes it wasn’t. But at least Gavin is here now, laying in the bed beside him, staying this time. No break-up. Just new solid ground to walk on.


	2. February

_ February 2nd _

“I think that’s enough, Connor.”

“I don’t,” he says, wrapping up another batch of cookie dough, setting it beside the stack of all the others in the freezer. Little packages of pink filling the space up, chocolate chip polka dots. “Last year, we ran out. People love them.”

“Except your boyfriend.”

“Oh, psh,” Connor says, closing the door. “Gavin’s just a liar.”

“Yeah?” Daniel smiles. “Still madly in love with him though, aren’t you?”

“He tests me every day, but yes,” he turns back to look at him. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you madly in love with anyone?”

“There’s someone,” Daniel says. 

“Is that all I get?” Connor asks, moving to stand beside him at the counter. He’s counting the eggs, tallying them up for the next batch of cookie dough, crossing off orders of cakes that they’ve already finished up. “Just that there’s  _ someone?” _

“It’s not going to go anywhere,” he says. “It’d be… stupid.”

“Oh. But do you like him?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says quietly. “I do.”

“Do you love him?”

Daniel laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that answers a question with the way it contains awkward and stilted pauses, “No.”

_ Liar. _

But he doesn’t push.

“Help me letter some cakes, Daniel,” Connor says, offering up a change in topic. “Somebody’s birthday is tomorrow and you have a steadier hand than me.”

  
  


_ February 5th _

Connor's body shudders against his, the grip he has on Gavin's shoulder tightens before he let's go, a tiny noise escaping him as he leans back against the shower wall. It's funny how many times the two of them have discussed what a bad idea shower sex is, and yet they keep doing it.

He blames Connor. His hands are light and gentle when he helps wash Gavin's body. It's easy to give in, and it's not like he's capable of hiding it from Connor. And Connor isn't that heavy. Gavin has held him up against almost every wall in the apartment. He likes the feeling of Connor's legs wrapped around his waist.

"Wasting water," Connor says quietly. Gavin presses his face against his neck, unable to respond. 

"Not as fun if the water isn't on."

"Yeah?" Connor laughs. "Let me down, please. We have a lot to do today, you know."

Gavin's grip on his thighs loosen, helping him down slowly but he stays pressed close to him. If he wasn't so self-conscious of his scars, he'd take Connor swimming. Kiss him underwater, splash him until he complains.

"I like it here."

"We can take a bath later, how about that?"

"Can we do  _ this  _ again, though?"

"If you unpack your stuff."

He lets out a whine like a petulant child.  _ But I hate unpacking, mom.  _ Gavin just wants to keep it all shoved in the closet and never think about it again. He likes stealing Connor's clothes and worming his way under the blankets with him. Who gives a shit about his stuff?

"The apartment is a mess, Gavin, and the dog keeps trying to chew your boxes open. You have to unpack at some point."

"Yeah, when your lease is up and we move to our own place, I'll unpack there."

"Gavin."

"Yes?"

"You have to unpack. I don't have enough time to do laundry three times a week because all of your clothes are buried. And you're stretching out my shirts."

"Because I'm a fucking muscular hunk, yeah?"

Connor rolls his eyes, "Sure. And I'm very lucky to have you."

"Yes. You are."

"Gav, I'm serious. Unpack. Please."

"I will," he says, shutting the water off. "I promise."

  
  


He's such a liar. But he's very good at distracting Connor. Pressing him against the sink and taking him again. Pressing kisses against his shoulder, a hand on his waist steadying him. A third time in the bedroom when they manage to unpack only half the boxes of clothes before Gavin pushes him on the bed and pulls his pants down with little warning, kissing his neck and drawing a line along the curve of his spine. The fourth time, Connor is the one to initiate it. He takes the bath with Gavin as promised, riding him long and slow but still causing the water to splash over the edges onto the tile.

It's easy to give into him. Connor is scared of him leaving, he's happy he's here. It's the only day off he'll likely get off this month. Gavin doesn't need Connor’s help to unpack. They can have this day for just the two of them.

They lay in bed, Gavin's arm around his waist, hands brushing across his stomach. Too much. He's overly sensitive now, it's making his body ache.

"Gav. Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Touching me. I'm too tired, I can't—"

"Oh. Sorry. I wasn't trying to…” he laughs. “Sorry."

Connor turns to face him, fighting the urge to drag him as close as possible. He hates feeling like this. Pushing someone he wants away because he's afraid to want more than he already has.

"Hey, Gav?"

"Hm?"

"I love you," he says. "I'd love you more if you unpacked tomorrow while I'm at work."

"Hm. Fine. No bribes this time?"

"I'll kick you out."

"Oh?"

"And no sex."

"Oh! Okay. You should’ve said so first.”

  
  


_ February 7th _

"Did you tell that guy that you liked him?"

"What?" Daniel shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because it would mess everything up. I'm fine with what we have. You know, Chloe doesn't pester me half as much as you do about this stuff."

"I want you to be happy," Connor says. Of course he does. It feels stupid to say. But Daniel has always seemed so unhappy, like he is incapable of even smiling if it isn’t to make fun of someone. Usually Gavin. They barely know each other, but it seems as though everyone is quite incapable of teasing Connor’s boyfriend.

"You want everyone working at Sumo's to be in love, and I'm an outlier."

"Hank isn't dating anyone either."

Daniel pauses, his hands poised above the fondant hearts, "Yes, he is."

_ "What?" _

"You’re so wrapped up with Gavin you don't even know your daddy has a new boyfriend.”

"Please don't phrase it like that," Connor says. "Who's he dating?"

"Rival bakery shop owner. Someone he used to know before."

"All ex-cops running bakeries now?"

"Seems like a better option, huh?" Daniel smiles. "Gavin probably knows him. They used to work together, right?"

"Did Hank tell you that?"

"No, Chloe did,” he replies. “She said Hank was worried Gavin was violent and that he'd hurt you. She told me to keep an eye out on you.”

Connor is quiet, eyes shifting to the array of decorations Daniel has made for some of the cakes. Roses and hearts in every color imaginable. He's better at it than Connor is. He's better at almost everything.

"You talk to Chloe?"

"Of course I do. She's my sister."

"She's your  _ sister?" _

"How do you think I got the job with no experience?" Daniel looks up to him. "It really is just all Gavin all the time in that head of yours, isn't it?"

"No," Connor says quietly.  _ Yes.  _ "I can't believe Chloe is your sister."

"We’re triplets."

He scoffs, moving away from Daniel, unable to take any more earth-shattering news. He vaguely recalls Chloe mentioning two brothers, but Daniel is a common name. And he didn't spend a long time looking at her personal photos. He didn't want to snoop. And they hardly see each other outside of work anyway—

But it helps, a little, to cure the strange familiarity of Daniel's face that has been bothering him for the last year. He just wishes it wasn’t like this. Forcing him to realize how little he has been paying attention to Chloe and Hank. He doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night with Chloe talking. He doesn’t remember going to Hank’s place since his birthday last year. He can’t recall anything, really.

And it worries him. It shouldn’t be like this, should it? His loved ones were slipping away and he didn’t even notice.

  
  


_ February 9th _

His thoughts fade out of focus as he works the dough, letting the weight of it do the work as it stretches, flattening it out into a large circle. He’s not good with dough—he never has been—but pizza dough is the easiest to work with for him. When Connor first showed up at Sumo’s, they sold bread. It was the thing that mostly filled the display boxes in the front. Back when the pink interior was more minimized, when it was the kind of natural aesthetic that lended itself to softwoods and blue curtains. That was before Connor couldn’t figure out how to proof a dough properly, it was before Hank gave up on trying to teach him.

The only time bread fills the space is with biscuits, which he’s good at, and possibly pies, though the crust on those prove to hate him, too. Hank is usually the one that comes down on Sundays when Connor isn’t here, doing a small amount of work that doesn’t last the cafe longer than a day or two.

But Daniel is good at it. Connor watched him and Hank talk about cinnamon buns for two hours today, Connor only in charge of making the frosting, which felt like a blow to his self-esteem. He didn’t create the recipes and he isn’t an expert baker, he got the job because Hank felt sorry for him, not because he was skilled, but creating icing for cinnamon rolls is just a matter of balancing out three cups of powdered sugar and a few tablespoons of milk. Chloe could do it. God—

_ Gavin  _ could do it.

“Babe, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor says quietly, dusting the flour off his hands, knowing even before he turns around that Gavin is going to be there, leaning up into his space, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. “Are you?”

“Very.”

“Then you should probably unpack those boxes,” Connor says, looking toward them. “So they stop taking up the living room.”

“But we’re making pizza.”

“Technically,  _ I’m  _ making pizza. You told me as long as I put extra pepperonis, you didn’t care.”

“Sorry,” Gavin whispers, leaving another kiss on his lips. “You want me to help?”

“It’s supposed to be a couple’s thing. As in the both of us. You said that last year, remember?”

“I also remember last year, you yelled at me for messing up the dough.”

“I didn’t yell at you,” Connor says, watching him. The memory foggy in his head. He can recall telling Gavin that he skipped an important step, but he can’t remember if he said it teasingly or not. “Did I yell at you?”

“A little.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he brings a hand up, tipping Gavin’s chin up. “I’m very sorry, Gavin.”

“Thank you. Apology accepted. Can I help now, then?”

“You only want to help so you don’t have to unpack.”

“No,” Gavin says, smiling that stupid mischievous smile of his. “Maybe.”

  
  


“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” Gavin asks, helping Connor ready the bed.

In the last few weeks, Connor has accumulated a dozen pillows, half of which end up in a basket by the wall before they sleep and in the morning, Connor painstakingly puts them back into their places. It reminds him too much of the hotel, rearranging and fixing pillows over and over again.

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“Con, I know when you’re upset. You came home without saying a word or asking me to help and you started baking. You did the dishes three times.”

“Well, I made three types of cookies. You can’t mix the batter.”

“Connor. Please. Talk to me. You said we’d be more open with each other. No more misunderstandings, remember?”

“It’s not about you, Gavin.”

“It is if you don’t tell me. It becomes about me.”

Connor holds one of the pillows. Diamond patterned, varying shades of blue that make a gradient towards the bottom. The one on the top matches the color of the walls perfectly, soft baby blue, almost white, but the shade toward the bottom matches the duvet cover. Deep midnight blue, collecting Mocha’s and Marshmallow’s fur like it has a vengeance on showing their lack of ability to keep it clean.

“I think Hank likes Daniel more than me.”

“Why?”

“Daniel can bake bread.”

If he didn’t see how serious and upset Connor was right now, he might’ve laughed. It sounds stupid, the sentence, on it’s own, but knowing that he’s unhappy with this turn of events, knowing how important Hank is to him, Gavin only nods.

“And you can’t?”

“No. I’ve tried. For  _ years. _ Every time I just got more and more frustrated,” Connor looks up to him. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

“Two years ago, before I met you… I remember giving up. I remember trying to make a loaf of bread. I loved the idea of having freshly baked bread that I made with my own hands. And I failed. And I was tired of failing. And I cried for five hours about it. I called into work and told them I was sick. It was the only time I’ve ever skipped work.”

“Do you want to try again?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to try?” Gavin asks. “I can try. Give you all the fresh baked bread you want.”

Connor smiles, and he nods, just slightly, “I just don’t like not being able to do things. People always say it’s easy because you mostly just sit around but… I don’t know. It’s not important.”

“It is, if it upsets you this much.”

“Yeah. I guess,” he sighs. “I don’t have a problem with Hank liking Daniel, by the way. Just a little jealous, I guess.”

“Because he has a new surrogate son?”

Connor tosses the pillow toward him, “I just miss learning from him. We don’t hang out as much as we used to. He’s always got work and I got you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s a good thing. Just strange. Different. We’ve been together this long and it still seems weird that I’m actually… happy, you know?”

Gavin nods. Of course it’s strange. He was never this happy this long in his entire life. He’s also never felt so hurt or upset by the lows of a relationship. Everything feels high stakes. Heightened to extremes. 

“I didn’t think after Eddie that I could trust anybody again,” Connor says quietly. “I didn’t think anyone could make me laugh. I didn’t think I could miss being around someone. He just taught me to be scared.”

“I hope I don’t scare you, Connor.”

“You don’t,” he replies. “Well, you did. Last month. But that was for different reasons. I was scared about losing you. Not about being stuck with you forever.”

“Good. Because you are, you know? Stuck with me. Forever.”

Connor smiles, tossing the last of the pillows towards the basket. Marshmallow makes his way into the room, hopping up on the foot of the bed, ignoring the plush dog bed sitting on the floor for him. Connor’s hired a dog walker for him, she leaves notes on the countertop for them. Short things about her adventures out into the world. Connor keeps each and everyone stapled together and stuck in a drawer like he’s afraid of losing them.

“Con?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I sure hope so,” Connor says. “Otherwise my Valentine’s Day present is going to be wasted on you.”

“I’m serious.”

Connor looks up to him, the hint of humor gone, “Okay. Yeah. Are you alright?”

“Just thinking,” he says quietly.

“About?”

“Losing you. How much it’d hurt. I’m scared, too, you know?”

“You won’t lose me, Gavin. I promise.”

  
  


_ February 10th _

They made a plan at the beginning of the month to separate Valentine’s Day into two parts. Neither of them would be free entirely until six, and Gavin took ownership of the first three hours of the day for his plans, giving Connor the next three for his own. The last hour of the night is supposed to be them going to bed. Late. The idea of how late depends on whether or not Marshmallow will give up scratching at the door to get into the room and whether or not Connor can get past this tiny hurdle that always proves to be a difficult boundary when it comes to sex. It’ll never go away. Sometimes he wonders if it’s best it doesn’t.

The problem, though, is that Connor doesn’t know what to do. He’s been working late at Sumo’s trying to get delivery orders done and keep enough stock of cookies to last, but they sell out so quickly throughout the entire month of February, no matter how much he tries to make extra.

He even works at home, making dough and packaging it up to take it in the next day. A constant battle of  _ is it enough? Of course it’s not enough. _

He hasn’t had  _ time  _ to think about Valentine’s Day, and maybe that would be fine if his present to Gavin could just be him sitting on the bed naked letting Gavin do whatever he liked for three hours, but the thought of it both excites him and churns his stomach, the latter tending to kill the former in a millisecond.

He’s never been good at this. Last year was easier. Going on the Ferris Wheel together, feeling protected by Gavin, feeling safe up in the air away from people but surrounded by them, too. There was no pressure. He didn’t have to act.

But they almost broke up last month and he doesn’t know how to reinforce the idea that he loves Gavin. Every time Gavin tells him he loves him, he is acutely aware of how he has to say the words back. Connor means them and he wants to say them, but he didn’t notice that he had held them back before, and now he can’t stop being aware of how his lips form them, how they sound half-false, even though they’re real.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know why he’s regressing like this. He’s supposed to be moving forward. Gavin’s moved in. They know what they want. Gavin knows his past, and he’s accepting of it and helpful when it brings him down.

Connor is just so sick of it bringing him down.

  
  


_ February 13th _

He watches Chloe and the delivery girl talk. Chloe leaning against the counter, smiling, moving her hair back slowly with her hand. The old thing of drawing attention to one's features with minute details. Biting lips and soft smiles. Daniel was right. Chloe's  _ flirting. _

He waits until the delivery girl leaves. Van loaded with treats and speeding off down the road. She won't return until late, dealing with Hank and checking off details.

"Chloe?" Connor says, leaving the safety of the kitchen during the lull in the day. "Can I talk to you?"

"About?"

"About the delivery girl."

"Who? Tina? What about her?"

"Does she seem… good?"

"How so?"

He shakes his head, "Nevermind."

"Connor? What are you asking me here?"

"Do you like her?"

"Tina's nice, yeah. She's funny."

"More than North?"

Chloe's face falls and she turns away from him, messing with the spare change jar. "It's not like that."

"How so?"

"I love North. I barely know Tina."

"So you and North…"

Chloe doesn't finish his sentence. She doesn't reassure him. She is not the girl panicking about October birthdays right now. She’s a girl that’s flirting with someone even though she’s in a committed relationship. She is hardly recognizable as  _ his  _ Chloe from two years ago.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"No."

_ Oh. _

He nods, feeling a sting of betrayal. A deep unsettling feeling of unease. Chloe refusing to talk isn't exactly new but it's still a surprise. She told Connor everything about their relationship when they got together. 

"But the delivery girl—"

"She makes me laugh," Chloe says quietly. "That's all. What about you?"

"I haven't talked to her—"

"No. I mean Daniel. You're staying awfully late."

"What are you implying, Chloe?"

"Don't comment on my relationship issues when you have your own," Chloe says. "Don't demand answers from me when I had to hear from North about you breaking up with Gavin. Or when I heard from Elijah about you two moving in together. You're off in your own world, Connor, and that's fine, but you can't come back a year later expecting to be in charge of everything."

"Chloe—" he starts, stunned, wounded.

Wounded by the truth of her words and wounded by the fact she had been very aware of his absence and…

He had hardly noticed hers.

"I need to get back to work. Don't you have a muffin burning or something?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I guess I do."

  
  


_ February 14th _

“You’re late,” Gavin says.

“Sorry,” Connor sets his keys down. “I didn’t—I lost track of time.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Connor.”

‘I know,” he comes to the living room, sitting down beside him on the couch. There are candles resting on the surface of the table, melted away and making the room smell more like sugar and vanilla than it normally does. “There was a woman that came in today yelling about her cake being lopsided. And it was, but it was barely noticeable. She talked to Hank for two hours demanding a new one be made for her by five.”

“It’s eight, Connor.”

“Daniel needed help cleaning up the dishes. February is hectic.”

“Hm,” Gavin says quietly. “Guess it is.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You are,” Connor says quietly. “I’m really sorry, Gav. I didn’t have time to text you.”

“I get it. Don’t worry.”

“I can make it up to you. We can celebrate the holiday tomorrow. We can just pretend—”

“I don’t really want to pretend, Connor.”

He sighs, shaky and uneven as he reaches out for Gavin’s hand, taking it carefully, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I’m not mad at you.”

“Liar,” he whispers, bringing Gavin’s hand up to press a kiss against the back of it. “You are.”

“I’m mad at the world, Con. That woman. Daniel. Myself.”

“Why are you mad at yourself?”

“Because I couldn’t come up with shit to do today and when you were late I was…  _ relieved,  _ you know? Because the pressure was off. I wanted to do something special and all I could think is… if I buy you chocolates, it’ll be worthless, because you love to bake and you could just make something better than store-bought chocolates. And then I thought maybe I could get you a giant bear or something, right? With a little pink ribbon on it? And then I thought… damn you have nowhere to put it at. It’ll just take up space, yeah? So I thought… maybe I’d make you dinner. And I couldn’t remember what your favorite meal was. So I went out and I bought like a fuckton of groceries thinking maybe I’d remember. And then I came home and you already owned half the stuff and I felt like it was a waste of time.”

“So you didn’t cook?”

“I did. I made pesto.”

“I like pesto.”

“But it’s not your favorite.”

“No,” Connor says quietly. “It’s yours.”

Gavin laughs, “Yeah. It is. But I ate alone and I thought… it really sucks eating dinner by yourself on Valentine’s Day. I’m not mad at you, Connor, I just  _ missed  _ you.”

“I can make it up to you,” Connor says quietly, he nudges Gavin’s side softly. “If you want.”

“Sex isn’t gonna solve me missing you.”

“It’ll help though.”

“Yeah,” Gavin says. “It will.”

Connor stands, tugging on his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. Gavin doesn’t budge, instead pulling him back to the couch.

“Hey,” Gavin whispers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it going to kill the mood?”

“No.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Do you think me having to clean up used condoms today was better or worse than you having to deal with a woman and her lopsided cake?”

Connor bites his lip, “Gav?”

“Yeah?”

“You killed the mood.”

  
  


_ February 20th _

There are a few days when they feel happy. There are a few days when they feel broken in the same way they had before. It isn’t something Gavin can describe in Connor’s actions. It’s just this—

_ Feeling  _ that he’s gone. That his mind is elsewhere. It isn’t as though he needs attention every day all day, but it’s noticeable to him when Connor stays late at work, when he disappears early in the morning, when he stopped talking about things that have happened at the cafe.

They’re supposed to be more open with each other. They’re not supposed to be hiding things. But Connor, when he talks to him, chooses his words carefully. The only things he says to Gavin are teasing him about their life together. The boxes still left unpacked, the sweatshirt that Gavin’s made his own. He doesn’t talk about baking like he had before. There could be hours where Connor laid on the couch, talking about something he made today. A special cake that he never tried before. A new recipe or a new client or just lamenting about how orderly baking is. The perfection that’s attained through perfect measurements.

Gavin could listen to that for hours. He could listen to stories about Chloe and Hank for forever. But the last week—

Nothing.

And he doesn’t know how to bring it up without sounding ridiculous. So he doesn’t.

  
  


_ February 23rd _

They were baking cakes for delivery orders after-hours that are due in two days when the power goes out. Shutting them in the dark in an instant. The clatter of Daniel setting down a pan on the counter the only noise as Connor searches the dark for him. He leaves in search of a flashlight, using his phone to guide him around Hank’s office before he returns, giving up on his quest.

“It looks like the whole street is out,” he says. “Daniel?”

“‘M over here,” he says quietly.

Connor feels his way through the darkness, finding him by the cabinets. He sits down beside him, closer than he normally would. Half on accident and half on purpose. He can tell by the way Daniel’s voice shook that he’s scared.

“You okay?”

“Just don’t like the dark. That’s all.”

“Something happen to you?” Connor asks, knowing it’s the wrong question, but too aware of how little he really knows Daniel at all.

“You could say that,” he says.

“Parents?”

“No. My friends. In college. There was this thing they did on Halloween. They picked a victim, drugged them, locked them in a basement. It was a hazing thing, I guess. But they leave you down there for a long time. Feels a lot longer when you’re there.”

Connor reaches out, finding Daniel’s hand, leaving his phone with the flashlight on, illuminating a small slice of the dark. “It’s okay. The power will probably come back soon.”

“Yeah? You think?”

“If it isn’t, I’ll call them. And then Hank. And we can leave. My car still works, you know. We can drive somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Daniel says with a small laugh. “You’re very kind.”

They’re quiet for a long moment. Sitting in the dark, waiting for the lights to come back on. Connor doesn’t know what to say. Daniel seems at a loss for words, too. They have never had such long gaps in their conversation that they couldn’t fill with talking about baking something.

“You ever confess your love to that boy you like?” Connor asks, grasping for whatever he can.

“This again?” Daniel sighs, frustrated and annoyed.

“It’ll get your mind off the dark,” Connor says. “Come on. Tell me.”

“No. I decided we would be bad together.”

“Why?”

“Too angry,” Daniel says.

“You or him?”

“Me. He’s… very sweet,” Daniel says quietly. “And I’m angry at everything all the time.”

“Even him?”

“Especially him.”

“Because he’s sweet?”

“Like strawberry cookies,” Daniel whispers. “You and Gavin are happy together, right?”

Sometimes. Most times. Too complicated to say right now. Connor can’t tell Gavin about Chloe freezing him out. He can’t properly explain what it feels like seeing Hank carry on without him. It’s easier to keep it locked up inside. It’s easier to not need to explain it to him.

But it’s hurting them, he thinks.

“Yes,” he says, instead. Because they are. Above it all, they are happy together. “I think he’s the love of my life, you know. And I didn’t really believe in that kind of thing before I met him. Or, at least, I didn’t think I would get one.”

“That’s good,” he says quietly. “Connor?”

“What?”

“You’re very sweet,” he says carefully. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Daniel—”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he moves before Connor can think. He moves in a way that makes him freeze, pushing backwards against the cabinet.

Daniel kisses him and it is soft and brief and then he’s gone. Disappearing from the kitchen before Connor can make sense of what happened. The bell on the door rings before he can gain control over his own limbs, before he can stand up and grab his phone, left alone in a dark kitchen.

The lights flicker on overhead, the stove clocks reading out a blinking 12:00 over and over again. The minutes tick by as the fog in his head settles in, his hands moving on autopilot as he deals with the cakes still in the ovens, turning over pans to release the ones left to cool. He isn’t thinking about it. Connor is refusing to think about it. He has a list of things to do, and he is not putting thinking about Daniel kissing him on that list.

  
  


_ February 24th _

“Connor—”

“I’m going out to the store,” he says, brushing past Gavin on the way to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I can go with you.”

“Easier if I go by myself.”

“Connor—”

“Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Gavin doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door opens and closes, leaving him alone, itching with the need to run after him, pushing down the desire to text  _ you  _ to Connor.

_ Come back, come back, come back. _

  
  


_ February 25th _

Connor curls up in the corner of the room, the door closed and barricaded by a heavy basket of laundry, overfull and left in the living room long enough for the pieces on top to gather fresh cat fur from Mocha finding a spot on the mountain to sleep. He retreated here with the laundry to be alone, though he usually always folds the laundry in the living room, beside Gavin, watching one of his shows just so he can steal a little bit more time with him.

But he can’t do that now. He can’t be around Gavin. It hurts too much. This secret he harbors is slicing him open and pulling his insides out. Every time Gavin kisses him, he’s back to that moment. Daniel leaning over in the dark, kissing him lightly. Him, too shocked to do anything.

He retreats to the corner, legs drawn up to his chest, trying to force himself to cry, but they don’t want to come. The time he spends with Gavin, he is fighting them with every ounce of his strength, but now that they’re allowed, they feel blocked. Holding him back instead of letting him go.

“Connor?” Gavin’s voice calls through the door.

“What?”

“I’m going to make dinner. Do you have any preferences?”

“N-no. Make whatever you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, but Connor doesn’t see the shadow under the door move, or hear the sound of footsteps retreating. Gavin is staying there, waiting, like he is eavesdropping.

“Connor, can you open the door?”

“Why?” he asks quietly, afraid that his question isn’t loud enough to be heard.

“Because I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Gavin.”

“Don’t lie to me. Please. I can’t do this again. Just talk to me, okay? Just open the door.”

Funny how quickly their situations reversed. Bitterly, Connor thinks—

At least Gavin never worried Connor was  _ dead _ . At least Connor is responding to him. At least he is physically here. Gavin never had to sit in his apartment crying non stop worried that someone he loved was in danger. He never had to fear that the end of the relationship was going to be Connor dead in an apartment, refusing to say anything at all.

He stands up, moving to the door, pushing the basket aside as he opens it.

“I’m going out,” he says. “I’ll be back later.”

Gavin grabs his arm when he tries to move past him, “The fuck you are. Talk to me.”

“I’ll be back,” Connor repeats. “Let me go.”

“I’m worried about you, Connor.”

“Maybe you should spend your energy on more important things,” he says, pulling his arm free harshly. “Like unpacking your stupid boxes so they aren’t fucking everywhere. Or, if you don’t want to live here so much, just leave. Because I’m sick of all this.”

“Connor, what’s—”

He moves fast. Grabbing his jacket and his keys. He’s faster than Gavin is, but he can hear Gavin following him. He gets to the elevator first, jamming the doors closed and sending it to a random floor. He can outsmart him, if he plays his cards right. He can get out of this stupid building without having to see Gavin’s face again.

But as he slinks back against the elevator wall, he realizes he forgot his shoes. He’ll have to make a run for the car, try to avoid any snow, too. And where is he going to go?

_ Anywhere but here. _

  
  


February 26th

“Gav?”

“Fucking hell. You’re back. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Leaving me or scaring me?”

“Both. More.”

“More?”

  
  


Gavin sits on the couch beside him, hands curled into fists, the need to punch and destroy something filling him up. Connor is sitting beside him, his face twisted into pain, his body curled against the side of the couch, far from him. Scared.

He was scared to tell him.

“He kissed you?” Gavin whispers, for the tenth time.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t kiss him back?”

“No. I didn't. I froze. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I could’ve stopped him. If I hadn’t been so…” he trails off, his voice becoming a small whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for him, Connor.”

“Fine. Then I’m sorry I was cruel to you before. You didn’t deserve that.”

He shakes his head. It doesn’t matter now. It’s so vastly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Daniel kissed Connor, and now everything is sliding into place. The distance. The quiet.

“Is that all?” Gavin asks quietly.

“Yes.”

“But this happened a few days ago, right?”

“Yes.”

But he was quiet  _ before _ . He was distant  _ before _ . Thoughts a million miles away, nothing shared to him. Did it happen twice? Did Connor keep it quiet before? Did Daniel do more than just kiss him?

“I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” he says, standing up. “I’m going down to Sumo’s. I’m going to wake Hank up. I’m going to get that fucker’s address and I’m going to kill him.”

“You’re not going to do anything, Gavin—”

_ What, like  _ **_you_ ** _ did nothing? _

He pushes the thought aside, angry at himself for thinking it as he moves towards the door, grabbing his shoes and slipping them on. He hears Connor’s protests dully, distantly. He is barely listening. All he wants to do is kill Daniel. Harm him in the same way he’s harmed the two of them.

“Eddie,  _ please stop.” _

Gavin freezes, his hand on the knob, turning back to face Connor. The anger on his face disappearing slowly as Connor’s hand digs into his arm, tears streaking down his cheeks.

He didn’t notice.

Connor didn’t notice the slip up.

“What?” he says quietly.

“Just leave him alone, okay?” Connor says. “It’s my fault, alright? Just leave him alone.”

“You—” he pauses. “You called me… You called me Eddie.”

Connor shakes his head, and Gavin can’t figure out why. He can’t figure out what’s happening. But the realization dawns on Connor slowly as his mouth forms another apology. The thousandth one in the last hour.

Gavin’s hand leaves the door knob, watching as all the traces of fear he hadn’t seen before leave Connor’s face bit by bit.

_ Eddie. _

Was Gavin that angry? Did he look that much like someone who would harm Connor? He wouldn’t hurt Connor. He would never hurt Connor.

But it was there. Traces of anger that reminded Connor of Eddie. Traces of anger that Gavin can feel now belong to his father. Things that are too violent and ruthless to put into words.

But the desire to beat the shit out of Daniel is still there.

“Connor—”

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I didn’t—You’re nothing like him, Gavin, I—”

“It’s fine,” he says, setting his keys down again. “Let’s just go to bed, okay?”

Connor nods, folding himself against Gavin’s chest, clinging onto him.

_ What the fuck is happening?  _ What the fuck is going on? Why are they slipping like this? Why are both of them falling apart like this?

And Connor—

So different, in that one moment. Crying and terrified like Gavin was going to hurt him. Was that how he was when he was with Eddie? Too scared to breathe, to act, to do anything at all? Gavin’s never seen him like that before. He’s never seen that kind of terror.

It’s infuriating and worrying at the same time. Half of Gavin wanting to smooth that away, fix him. Find a way that his presence here can be something positive instead of something negative. He wishes his love could heal Connor’s wounds, but he knows it isn’t that easy.

And part of him—

Part of him wants to hunt Eddie down and tear him apart.

  
  


_ February 29th _

Sumo’s is different when Connor isn’t here. It’s strange, closer to night. It makes him think of the first night he was here. Rain pouring down, the inability to see the boy’s face on the other side of the glass that pestered him. But so completely opposite, too. Gavin doesn’t come here unless Connor is waiting for him to share lunch at one of the booths, or when he drops Connor off in the morning and Chloe gives him a cup of coffee before they open. It feels empty. Devoid of Connor in a way he can’t explain.

“Gavin?” Chloe asks, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” he says, coming over to the counter. “I have something I want to leave for Connor in the kitchen. Is it okay if I go back there?”

“He’s not here right now.”

“I know,” Gavin says. “I want it to be a surprise for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she says, “Go ahead. But don’t let Hank see you.”

He pushes the door open, stepping into the brightly colored kitchen. All of the shiny silver, bright cotton candy pinks. Containers of brownies and cookies set aside, waiting to be taken out when the displays run low.

Daniel glances up, meeting Gavin’s gaze. He moves away, setting the bag of icing down on the counter, leaving a cake half decorated.

“Gavin,” he says, his words coming out measured carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to talk to you,” he says, the doors closing behind him. “Do you know why?”

“Have no idea,” Daniel says, offering a smile. It isn’t polite. It isn’t scared. He looks—

_ Pleased. _

Fucking full of himself.

Gavin steps forward, his eyes moving to the cake. The urge to push it to the floor, to make him start all over again—

_ Fuck. _ Gavin hasn’t been this angry about something in a long time. But he isn’t going to do that. Not fair to the customer and her daughter’s fifth birthday.

“I think you do.”

“You want me to say it?”

“Yes,” Gavin says, through gritted teeth. “Admit to it.”

Daniel rubs his hands against his apron, like he’s wiping away the grimey aspect of what he’s done. His smile isn’t what it was before. Now it’s scared. Now it’s exactly what Gavin wants. The prick should be horrified at what he did.

“I kissed Connor.”

“Yeah. My boyfriend.  _ Mine.” _

“It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“It did.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Daniel says quietly. “I care about him.”

“Not enough to let him be happy with someone he’s already committed to.”

“Is he happy with you?” he asks. “He’s at work an awful lot. And he didn’t seem like he was complaining. In fact, I’d say, you being here? Trying to be the macho guy protecting his boyfriend that’s clearly through with the relationship? That says more about your problems than me kissing him—”

Gavin steps forward, acting before he can stop himself. Violence is second nature. It’s easy. It’s familiar. It’s exactly what he was raised with. His hand closes around Daniel’s throat, pressing tight, pushing him backwards.

“If you ever fucking go near him again I will snap your fucking neck, do you got it?” he asks. Daniel doesn’t reply, and he tightens his grip, eliciting a groan from him. “Do you fucking _ got it?” _

“Y-Yes.”

Gavin lets go, “Kiss him again and you’re dead. Talk to him about anything other than work and you’re fucking dead.”

“Yes. I fucking got it.”

“Good. Now this,” he says quietly, curling his hand into a fist. “Is for kissing him in the first place.”

Daniel doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. The fist to his face seems to come as a surprise, but he doesn’t do anything to stop it, and he’s too slow to deflect the knee to his stomach that sends him to the floor. He should beat the shit out of him. Gavin’s hurt people more for less.

“He is never going to love you,” Gavin says quietly. “Get over your stupid crush. Move on. Or I’ll make you wish you did.”

Daniel nods, sitting up slowly. His voice shakes when he speaks, shakes with pain and anger and fear as he hides himself against the cabinet, “I got it. I won’t talk to him unless I have to. Please just leave.”

It’s not enough. He wants Daniel on his knees begging for forgiveness. For who? For  _ why? _

It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing else he can do. He should tell Daniel not to talk about this to Connor, but he knows that would likely just push him to. So he leaves him there, with his nose bleeding and his hand wrapped around his stomach.

The same place Gavin has been a hundred times before.

He leaves quickly, not looking to Chloe as he goes, even though she calls his name. He needs to get away. Back out into the cold and the snow as the regret and guilt settle in. All of the shame of his violence and his actions creeping up around him, choking him tight.

_ What did he do? What the fuck did he just do? _


	3. March

_March 2nd_

This is not how his life was supposed to go. This is not where he was supposed to be.

Connor stares at the cake tins, the stand mixer, the recipe book opened up to the vanilla cake he made for Chloe last year. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge from his spot. Chloe isn’t his friend anymore. She won’t want a cake from him like she did last year. But if he left it out, maybe Daniel…

He shakes his head, slams the book closed, replaces all of the tools and ingredients back to their homes on the shelves while he grabs his coat and readies to leave. No Daniel, no Chloe. Not anymore. He’s leaving early, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to be out of this place. In the span of two months, his life has gone from happy and content to the only two safe places he once had have been tainted by something horrible.

Chloe doesn’t call after him when he leaves. She probably isn’t even looking his way, and he lets the door to the cafe close in quiet. The ring of the bells sounds his exit as he makes his way down the street back to his apartment. Back to another quiet, horrible space filled with tension and borderline aggression.

  
  


_March 3rd_

It’s late. Connor is asleep beside Gavin, turned away from him to the other side of the bed. An accidental (or maybe not-so-accidental) barrier of pillows and pets have formed between them, dividing them from each other. Gavin turns on his side, stretching a hand over Marshmallow to rest against Connor’s torso. He wants to hold his hand. He wants to cling to him. He wants to wake up with Connor wrapped so tightly around him that he can hardly breathe or move. He misses him. He’s lost him in the last month and he doesn’t know why.

He’s never properly loved anyone besides Connor. He doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know if he ever knew how to before him.

“Connor?” he whispers. It’s three in the morning. He shouldn’t be waking him, but he says the words quietly anyway. “I love you. I just want you to be happy. I don’t know how to make you happy anymore.”

  
  


_March 4th_

It’s Sunday, which he will regretfully spend in the apartment with Gavin, who also has the day off. They’ve worked with their schedules to make sure that they always have Sunday together. It was good, once upon a time, but not now. When Connor wakes, he leaves the apartment to get coffee down the street just to escape for a little bit. An hour by himself, even if it’s before Gavin wakes up for the day.

When he returns, though, Gavin is sitting on the couch in silence, watching the door. There’s a bag in front of him, stuffed to the brim.

“What’s that?”

“We need to talk, Connor.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, setting his keys down. “About what?”

“Us,” _What else?_ “Can you come here?”

He doesn’t want to. As though the distance between them will make Gavin stop talking. He knows what he’s going to say. They’re going to break up, and it’s going to be for good this time. There isn’t any going back after this. Connor didn’t say a thing to Gavin, but he knows that he was the one that left Daniel with the bruise on his cheek and the bloody nose. But he couldn’t say anything. Saying something made it real. Saying something—

It made him terrified that this would happen.

He never wanted to lose Gavin. Not for a second.

“I’m fine where I am,” Connor says quietly.

“Con…”

“Anything you say will still be the same thing if I’m over here.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Connor,” Gavin says, and he says it so seriously that it feels like a slap across the face.

Gavin thinks Connor is scared of him. But it’s not a physical hurt that Connor is scared of right now. He doesn’t think Gavin would hit him. Even with Daniel showing up to work like that, even with the fight at the bar in January, Connor never thought Gavin was violent like that.

“Just say it.”

“Fine,” Gavin sighs. “I think we should take a break.”

“A break?” Connor asks. “Not a break-up?”

“No.”

“But you’re leaving,” he says, looking to the bag.

“I think we both need space, Connor. It’s not going to work if we’re both still here. The motel I work at will give me a place to stay at a discount so it’s fine.”

“But we aren’t breaking up.”

“No,” Gavin says. “I don’t want to lose you. You know I love you. But we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Can’t you just stay here?”

“Connor…”

“If you aren’t breaking up with me you can at least stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Please don’t make me beg you, Gavin. If you leave, I lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me. I’m still here. I’ll always be here until you tell me to fuck off, okay?”

Connor doesn’t believe him. He has never believed something Gavin has said less than he does right now. And when Gavin gets up and grabs the handles of his bag and stops beside Connor on the way out the door, he can’t breathe. He is trying his best to suffocate the tears but he knows he’s doing a terrible job at it, and not because Gavin’s hand is on his cheek, brushing them away gently.

“I’m sorry.”

Connor shakes his head, dismissing the apology. If Gavin was sorry, he wouldn’t be leaving. 

_Don’t make me beg._

But he should. If he was on his knees right now, crying and screaming for Gavin to stay, surely he would. Surely he wouldn’t run away from him. He has heard the stories of people going on breaks. They never get back together. They just break up entirely. They just ruin their relationships. Gavin is breaking up with him, regardless of whether he believes he is or not.

“Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

The words are hard to get out. And he can’t tell if it’s because he is crying so heavily right now or because these words are just hard to say in general, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Will you come back?” he whispers. “Eventually?”

He would wait for Gavin for a thousand years, he thinks.

But there is also only so much of this kind of pain he can endure before he has to excise and amputate.

“Of course.”

  
  
  


_March 5th_

This was so fucking stupid.

And so much more painful than Gavin imagined.

  
  


_March 7th_

**Connor** : can we at least talk?

 **Connor** : I miss you

 **Gavin** : no talking

 **Gavin** : I’m sorry

  
  


_March 10th_

The apartment is so completely and utterly empty without him.

He lays sprawled out on the floor with the dog and the cat, staring at the ceiling willing the hours to pass by.

They’re supposed to be thinking, right? They’re supposed to be locating inside of themselves what’s wrong, what to fix, how to fix it. They are supposed to be repairing themselves and the damage they’ve done to each other, but there is too much of it.

_Excise. Amputate._

But how is he meant to get rid of Gavin? He has touched everything in Connor’s life. There’s nothing for him anymore. He lost Chloe and Daniel as his friends. Hank is always busy, dating someone that Connor still doesn’t know the name of. Even baking has lost its light for him. There is nothing soothing about it anymore, no matter how hard he tries to romanticize it. He is just empty. Everything is so empty.

  
  


_March 11th_

**Connor (unsent):** I love you.

  
  


March 12th

 **Gavin (unsent):** i hate this

 **Gavin (unsent):** why did you let me do this

 **Gavin (unsent):** i knew i’d miss you but i never thought it’d hurt this badly.

  
  


_March 14th_

It’s an accident, when they see each other on the streets. Connor is headed from the bookshop to his house and Gavin is on the other side of the street, hands in his pockets, walking to who knows where. Connor pauses, strangers bumping into him as he watches Gavin walk away, half tempted to yell his name, even more tempted to run across the street and crash into him.

  
  


Gavin slows to a stop, looking across the road, scanning the streets. He felt like he was being watched. Eyes on him that didn’t belong there. He settles his gaze on someone rushing down the street, fast, and he knows who it is even before they reach the corner and turn. His hand goes to his pocket, clutching onto his phone.

_Call him._

_Run after him._

_JUST FUCKING DO_ **_SOMETHING._ **

  
  


_March 15th_

Connor is tired. Half asleep as he leaves the bed and opens the door to his apartment. He’s heard the knocking for the last five minutes and chose to ignore it, but it’s grown incessantly louder each time he almost drifted back to sleep. When he opens it, he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

“Gavin?”

“I’m not back,” he says quietly, stepping forward. “I don’t think we’re ready to be back.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I saw you today.”

 _Yesterday,_ Connor wants to say. Gavin’s always liked to tease him about the technicalities of dates after midnight. But he can’t get the joke out. Gavin is stepping forward, pulling him down into a soft kiss, pressing his face close to Connor’s. His skin is so cold, but Connor’s arms are automatic at wrapping around him and pulling him close.

“Do you want to stay?” Connor regrets the question as soon as he asks it. If he didn’t say anything, Gavin might not have thought about it. He might’ve just stayed the night. He could’ve filled the empty bed. But instead he’s shaking his head, burrowing closer against him. “Please?”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No, I can’t.”

 _You can,_ he wants to say again. _Stop being such an idiot and just stay._

“You just came to kiss me and leave me, then?”

“Yes,” Gavin says quietly. “And remind you that I love you. That I’m still in this.”

And to hurt Connor a little bit more, once he leaves.

“Can you at least stay until I fall asleep, Gavin?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

  
  


He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers the feeling of warmth of being so close to Gavin again. He remembers breathing in that faint coffee and leather scent of his, undercut by cleaning chemicals and the mustiness of a cheap motel room, the generic shampoo and soap from the prepackaged containers placed inside of every bathroom. He clung to it and Gavin’s warmth for so long knowing that when he woke Gavin wouldn’t be there.

Connor doesn’t really know why he’s so surprised when he opens his eyes and Gavin is gone. He said he would go. But knowing he’s alone doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  
  


_March 16th_

**Connor (unsent):** Come back

 **Gavin (unsent):** can i come back?

  
  


_March 19th_

How many days can tick by with nothing before he gives up? How much space do either of them really need?

He finds himself waking from nightmares, shaking and trembling and crying because the only thing he wants and the only thing that can help quell the terror is on the other side of the city.

  
  


_March 22nd_

He fucking hates this motel room more than anything else in the world. More than himself, even.

  
  


_March 27th_

He never wanted to do this. Connor only agreed because he knew it’s what Gavin wanted. But he never wanted this. He never wanted any of this. He is suffering and every day it feels like more and more of him is being spilled or erased and he isn’t fast enough to keep it together.

  
  


_March 30th_

**Connor** : Hey. Are you awake?

 **Gavin** : unfortunately

 **Connor** : do you think we could meet up tomorrow? At the diner? And talk?

 **Connor** : I can’t do this anymore

 **Gavin** : okay

  
  


_March 31st_

“You’re late,” Connor says. “It’s almost midnight. You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

“I know,” he takes the seat opposite of him. “Things happened.”

“’Things’?”

“My car broke down. I had to call for a ride or walk and I was going to call but I realized I locked my phone in the room and my keys in the car and it’s… sorry. I should’ve…” he trails off. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“So….”

“So.”

“Are we going to keep this up?” _Are you going to break my heart?_

“I don’t think we can,” Gavin says quietly. “I just… don’t know what to do. We promise we’re going to be more open and honest and then we aren’t. We spend time together and it fucking hurts and we spend time apart and it hurts and… we were happy once, weren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we could ever go back to that? Being happy?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? Not _do you still love me?_ That was never in question. They always knew they loved each other. But love really isn’t enough. They need to be happy.

And Connor isn’t sure how to answer Gavin’s question. He isn’t sure if he knows how to be happy anymore.


	4. April

_April 1st_

“Do you think we could ever go back to that? Being happy?”

“Yes,” Connor replies. “I do.”

“How? Do we go to therapy together?” Gavin asks. “Because… I hit Daniel. I… I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t.”

“I know.”

“You know? Did he tell you?”

“No. I just… knew,” Connor shakes his head. “Who else would’ve beaten him up the day after I told you about him kissing me? It wasn’t Hank. It wasn’t Chloe. The timing was just… too coincidental. And it’s fine.”

“It’s fine?”

“I forgive you,” he says. “I understand why you did it. And it won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t.”

“But you should’ve told me after it happened.”

“You should’ve told me about the kiss after it happened.”

“I know,” Connor says. “I know.”

“And you should’ve told you stopped going to therapy, too.”

Connor looks up to him, his insides freezing, “What?”

“I know you stopped. I’m not an idiot. You used to go every Friday and then suddenly you were home all the time? I know you stopped going. You don’t have to lie about it.”

“You stopped going, too.”

“I know.”

“We should go back.”

“We should,” Gavin whispers in quiet agreement.

“Why’d you stop?” Connor asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I thought I was better.”

“Me, too.”

Gavin shakes his head, Connor smiles softly. They’re both so stupid. A little bit of progress and they think they’re healed. They were happy and they thought because they had each other that everything else was fine. Nothing is ever stable in his life. He got used to it for one year and it destroyed him when everyone around him proved that their lives weren’t going to be set in stone.

“We should go back,” Connor repeats. “We can make rules. For being together. Number one is we go to therapy and if we stop, we tell each other.”

“Number two can be actually talking.”

“Yes. And number three… you come home.”

“Is that really a rule?”

“No. I guess not. But I need you home.”

“Okay. I’ll come home.”

“Good,” Connor whispers. “So we should talk.”

“Yeah.”

  
  


And so they do.

Connor spills everything inside of him. The moving forward, the living together, the reminder of what his life was like with Eddie. The resurgence of Gavin’s violence (which truly, yes, he has forgiven him, but it doesn’t make it right). He doesn’t have feelings for Daniel, and Daniel isn’t talking to him anymore, anyway, and it wasn’t why he was ever upset at Gavin hitting him. Daniel was his friend, and he was hurt, and Gavin was supposed to stop fighting. And Gavin promises, again, to stop. Connor doesn’t know if he believes him, but he has to trust Gavin.

And they make another rule, then and there. _No fighting._ And if Gavin breaks it, he has to tell Connor. It was the only real rule they had before, and Gavin broke it twice this year. He isn’t allowed to break it again. A third time they can’t come back from.

He tells Gavin about North and Chloe, the only people in his life that ever seemed like they were stuck together, and how their almost break up felt like his world was falling apart. He tells Gavin that Hank is dating someone and he didn’t even know. That he lost so much of his life and his relationship with his friends because he was with Gavin.

And it isn’t to say that he wouldn’t spend time with Gavin—he loves him. He _wants_ to spend time with him. But he worries, constantly, that if he was a better friend he wouldn’t have lost three people that he cares about.

“I’m not the only relationship of yours that needs fixing, huh?”

“No,” Connor laughs. “I guess not.”

“We can figure it out together, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t leave again.”

“Promise?” Connor whispers.

“Promise.”

  
  


They walk home together, their hands closed tightly around each other. Gavin keeps leaning against Connor, and their straight path forward keeps curving towards the buildings, where they collide against it, kissing each other, Connor pulling Gavin closer and closer until he thinks they’re going to crumble into the brick exterior of an antique shop.

They only part when they remember where they are, what they’re doing, and Gavin tries to talk like Connor had talked.

That the idea of getting married and having kids being presented at this time felt right but felt wrong, too. Too early to make such a commitment, but now it’s what he keeps thinking about. Keeps wondering if their relationship would ever be strong enough to endure those things. It’s a worry he always keeps, that the two of them aren’t strong enough, and if he’s worrying that they’re not strong enough, he’s probably right. And if he’s so worried about being worried and he can’t get himself to talk to Connor about it, then they truly are broken.

But it isn’t just that. It’s that Connor kissed someone else. Or someone else kissed Connor. And Elijah’s moved to the city and the two of them are moving in together and he’s still so alone that he’s afraid of taking Connor and only having him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know how to exist. He’s so insufferably lonely sometimes that he doesn’t know how to talk about it, because Connor should be enough.

And he is.

Just not always in the way Gavin needs.

“You’re worried about telling me you want friends?”

“…Yeah.”

“I’m not going to be offended that you want to hang out with someone other than me, Gavin.”

“No?”

“No. But I thought you were friends with North?”

“Barely.”

Connor smiles, “Maybe there’s someone else, then. We have a delivery girl, maybe I could get you two to hang out.”

“My boyfriend is gonna hook me up with a lady? Nice.”

Connor lands a playful punch against his shoulder, “I’m serious. You might like her. And, statistically, you have to be friends with someone at Sumo’s. Not all of them can hate you.”

“You don’t hate me,” Gavin says. “Right? You could be the one.”

“ _Besides_ me, Gavin.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll meet your delivery girl.”

  
  


_April 3rd_

They aren't perfectly okay. Gavin knows that. It's only been two days but they still fit together awkward and strange. But it's a relief when he wakes up in the morning and Connor is there beside him. It feels right. And he feels increasingly stupid for thinking that leaving him for even a second was a smart option. Or even an option at all.

"Watching me again? Connor says, turning away from the coffee pot.

"Yes."

"My own little stalker, hm?"

Gavin smiles lightly, moving to his side and wrapping his arms around Connor’s waist tightly, "Do you know what today is?"

"Our anniversary."

"Yeah," Gavin places a kiss against his shoulder. "We met two years ago."

"And I've been in trouble ever since."

"But you love me."

"Yes. I do. That’s the trouble," Connor sighs, leaning back against him. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"No. Why?"

"Our Valentine's Day was particularly not good. I thought we could make up for it. Go to the movies? Dinner?"

"I'd like that, Con."

  
  


The theater was a good choice. At first, Connor was worried. They don't go out often. Neither of them really like big crowds and both of them are very fond of kissing each other after making obnoxious jokes, but they aren't quite there again yet. But the theater is nice. It takes away the pressure.

They see a romance movie. Gavin laughs at the jokes loud, and his laugh is so big it cuts through everyone else's. And Connor hasn't been happier than now, not needing to hide his smile in the dark.

He holds Gavin’s hand when the popcorn is empty and only lets Gavin take it back to steal a piece of candy from the Bunch-a-Crunch box they share. Connor keeps pressing kisses to the back of it whenever the couple in the movie say something particularly sweet or cheesy or clutches it tight when they confess their love.

And it's the first time in three months that he's felt like everything was actually going to be okay.

  
  


_April 4th_

Gavin heads to Sumo's, parking his car across the street as he makes his way in, hiding underneath his jack to protect from the rain. There are a few customers sitting at the tables still. He offers the same excuse to Chloe that he did last time, slipping his way into the kitchen.

Daniel pauses behind the countertop, freezing as he glances up, "Gavin. Hello."

"Hi."

"Connor isn't here. And we haven't--We--I didn't do anything."

"I know."

"Then why are you here? I haven't said two words to him."

Gavin steps forward, surveying the kitchen. Connor's favorite place until recently. He does so much baking at home now, bringing more goods here to cut down his time at Sumo’s.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes," Gavin says quietly. "I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry."

"You feel so bad then why did you do it?"

"You've met Connor. You think anyone could be in a relationship with him and feel like they're good enough for him?" He sighs. "And you…"

"What about me?"

"I don't know. You're cute. You like to bake. You seem like a good person."

"You don't know me, Gavin."

"And you don't know me."

"Do you want me to?" Daniel asks. "I thought you'd hate me."

"I don't hate you. That's all I'm trying to say."

"So you don't want to be friends with the guy who kissed your boyfriend?"

"I don't want to be friends with the guy who said he was _in love_ with my boyfriend," Gavin says. "Which is a shame, because I think we might get along."

"Maybe."

"So… if that ever changes… the love? Maybe we could…"

Daniel smiles softly, "Maybe. But probably not… soon."

"That bad huh?"

"It's Connor," Daniel says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Gavin smiles to himself. No. He gets it. Connor, despite everything, is not a crush or a love that goes away overnight.

  
  


"You’re home late," Connor says.

Gavin comes to his side, wrapping up around him tightly, leaning up to kiss him, "Sorry. I was busy."

"With what?"

He goes quiet for a minute, burying his face against Connor's neck, "I went to see Daniel."

"For _why?"_

"To apologize."

"That all?"

"Yes.

"Did it go well?"

"Yeah. I think so."

  
  


_April 5th_

Connor sets the box down on the counter, lingering by the doorway as Tina comes in to take her deliveries away. He steps forward, a hand coming down on top of the boxes, holding them into place. Chloe looks over at them skeptically, before returning to the customer at the register.

“What are you doing?” Tina asks.

“I have a favor I need to ask of you.”

“Oh?”

  
  


_April 7th_

Gavin helped him bake them last night. He’s starting to become better and better at it. More attention spent on the actual baking process than trying to distract Connor with kisses when he needs to be mixing batter or making frosting. It did not, however, stop Gavin from stealing the frosting when he thought Connor wasn’t looking, as though he wouldn’t notice the bowl missing a Gavin-sized scoop out of the center.

Connor knocks on the office door, pushing it open after Hank beckons him inside. He sets the box on the edge of the desk, twelve carefully crafted and decorated carrot cupcakes inside of it.

“What’s this?”

“A peace offering,” Connor replies, taking a seat across from him.

“Why a peace offering?”

“I wanted to apologize for being a little bit distant for the last…” he sighs. “Two years?”

“You mean ever since Gavin stole you away?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re dating him again, right?”

Connor tilts his head to the side, “How’d you know we broke up?”

“I saw you moping around for an entire month. You think I _didn’t_ know?” he asks. “I never said anything because… well…”

“You didn’t want to say you warned me? That you told me so?”

“Gavin’s not as bad as I thought, but he is still Gavin. Sorry,” Hank replies. “That’s shitty. I should’ve been there for you.”

“I should’ve been there for you, too,” Connor says quietly. “I heard you got a boyfriend. Apparently North says you’re very romantic.”

“The fuck does North know about my romance?”

“Chloe.”

“Ah,” Hank sighs. “Yeah. I do.”

“Does he make you happy?”

Hank pulls the box of cupcakes toward him, inspecting inside of them, “Happy enough to let him have one of these.”

“Oh? I’ll be expecting a marriage proposal soon then,” Connor says. “What’s his name?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you with that information.”

“What am I going to do with a name?”

Hank narrows his eyes at him, “Fine. His name is Jeffrey. And that’s all the information you’re going to get.”

_Hank and Jeffrey._

“Can I bake something for him? Are you going to bring him to Sumo’s?”

“Fuck no. Unlike you and Chloe, I’m smart enough to keep my lovers far away from this place.”

“Lovers?” Connor asks, then laughs. “You own this place. You live above it. You’re telling me _Jeffrey_ is never going to want to come visit?”

“He might want to. Fuck all if I’m going to let him.”

“Fine,” he says, standing up to leave. “I’m glad you’re happy, Hank. You deserve it.”

“So do you, kid.”

  
  


Connor sits beside him on the bed, tracing the shape of Gavin’s tattoo as they watch television. His hair wet against his skin, sprawled out in as little clothing as he can have before he sleeps. The apartment isn’t cold enough to his liking. He prefers to be frozen solid, wearing thick hoodies. But at least he doesn’t need the excuse of warmth to be sitting this close to Gavin.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“You worked with Hank before, right? He’s dating someone. Daniel said his boyfriend used to work at the DPD. I was wondering if you knew him.”

“I might. What’s his name?”

“Jeffrey.”

“Jeffrey?” Gavin sighs. “I don’t remember a Jeffrey.”

“Are you sure?”

Gavin takes Connor’s hand in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as he thinks, “Well… maybe. It… no… it _couldn’t_ be.”

“Gavin?”

“There was a Jeffrey. But we didn’t call him that. Fowler? He was our Captain.”

“Hank’s sleeping with his boss.”

“Post him being his boss, yeah, probably.”

“Is he cute?”

“Why do you need to know? You gonna leave me for him? Go get in a threesome with Hank and Fowler?”

“I thought about it.”

“Cruel.”

“Well,” Connor says. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“No?”

“No. You have a date tomorrow.”

“I have a date? With who?”

“The delivery girl.”

“Oh. Wow. You really are pawning me off on her, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Connor kisses him lightly on the bridge of his nose. “I still love you, though.”

“Good. That’s all I need.”

  
  


_April 8th_

He meets Tina at a bowling alley, but they head to the arcade section instead with a pocket full of tokens and their sights set on different prizes. Connor isn’t here, but Gavin saw the plush dog on the shelf when he walked in. Five thousand tickets and he can get Connor an overpriced Sumo lookalike, though the price isn’t the point. Gavin likes winning. Especially if he’s going to go up against Tina.

Fucking Tina, who he recognizes in an instant as the girl that cut him in line at a coffee shop last year. Neither of them bring it up, which is probably for the best, because Gavin isn’t fond of the idea of exposing himself as somebody that’s still holding a grudge against her. But he is. And he proves it when they play air hockey and he sinks in three goals in a row and acts like an idiot when he scores.

“Christ,” Tina says. “And Connor’s _dating you?”_

“Shut up,” Gavin says. “You’re just pissed that I’m winning.”

“You’re ahead by one point. Is this what you’re like on dates?”

“No. You’re the exception.”

Tina looks at him, disturbed and more than a little annoyed, “You and Connor keep referring to this as a date and I don’t get it. You got some cuck fantasy you’re playing out?”

“No. What the fuck? _No.”_

“You’re protesting a little much, Gavvy.”

Gavin slams his hand down on the table, knocking the puck back Tina’s direction. It hits the wall hard, bouncing back towards him. Tina doesn’t move, just watches the puck fling across the table towards Gavin’s goal. He isn’t fast enough to block it, and Tina’s score ticks up one, tying them.

“Don’t be gross,” Gavin says, narrowing his eyes at her. He wonders, briefly, if this is how Connor feels when he makes his own stupid innuendos. The scoffs and the grimaces. But he almost always laughs or smiles. And he almost always kisses Gavin right after. “You aren’t going to kiss me, are you?”

“Oh, and _I’m_ the gross one?”

Gavin stares back at her. The two of them matched in silence before they both laugh, stupid and loud, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the arcade. It’s so fucking stupid. Neither of them know what they’re talking about. Maybe Connor was onto something, pairing them up. Tina feels like a distant friend of his. The type of people he used to hang out with in high school, when it was easier to keep up with friendships by the natural state of going to the same place every day for years and years.

They break for pizza after Tina wins the game, but she helps him with earning tickets to buy the dog, and when he leaves they both promise to hang out again soon. Gavin can recognize the same kind of loneliness in her that he has inside of himself. The loss and the inability to try to fix it. When he comes home, he sets the plushie on the couch beside Connor where he’s fallen asleep, half-tempted to wake him just to tell him he’s glad that he went out today. But he doesn’t. Connor looks peaceful, and his arms seem to automatically cling onto the plushie, holding it close to his chest.

And Gavin can’t believe how happy he is that he has Connor back.

  
  


_April 16th_

“Let me lead, asshole,” Gavin says, taking Connor’s hand again.

Connor laughs, even though he isn’t doing this on purpose. He couldn’t care less who led the dance. But Gavin isn’t good at ballroom dancing and this song isn’t meant for it.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Connor says, watching Gavin stumble forward and backward again, mixing up the steps.

“Oh shut up, I could waltz circles around you.”

“Could you?”

“Yeah,” Gavin lifts their joined hands up, “Now spin.”

“You’re too short for me to do that, Gavin.”

“Humor me.”

Connor tries to, bending downward and ducking underneath Gavin’s arm. When he returns to his spot, Gavin tugs him forward, his hands moving to rest around Connor’s neck.

“Thank you.”

Connor brings his hand up, brushing over Gavin’s scar, “I missed you.”

“Good. I missed you, too,” Gavin replies. “Do you think we’re going to keep saying it? It’s been two weeks now.”

“I know. But I’m not quite sure if there are enough times I could say it to properly convey how much it sucked without you.”

“Well, I can always make it suck _with_ me, too.”

“I think we’re done dancing now, Gavin,” Connor says, turning to move away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says, pulling Connor back toward him. “I went a month without saying anything. They’re all built up in here.”

“You get two more for the rest of the month. Then you have to stop.”

“Only two?”

“Be lucky you get that many.”

  
  


_April 18th_

Connor opened the windows this morning, letting in fresh air that the four of them crowd around. The cat in the windowsill, stretched out long as she peers out at the busy street below. Gavin rests against the edge of the bed frame on the floor, Connor laying against him with the dog resting on his legs. It’s raining, that intrinsic wet asphalt smell seeping into their apartment. They’re lucky that the wind isn’t blowing any of the rain inside, that they can just enjoy the sound of passing cars and distant chatter as the backdrop for Connor reading his book aloud, his voice quiet and soft as he details the scenes on the pages. 

It’s a perfect little moment that Gavin wouldn’t trade for the world.

And it’s the first time this year that he’s thought for sure that they’d be okay.

  
  


_April 22nd_

"Good morning."

"What's this all about?" 

Gavin looks around at the rose petals scattered across the countertop, "Oh this? Nothing."

"Nothing?" Connor raises his eyebrows. "You woke up earlier than me on a Sunday for nothing?"

"Maybe I just wanted some romance."

"At 8 am on a Sunday morning?" He asks. "And the romance is rose petals on the kitchen counter?"

"Yes," Gavin says, pushing him back against it. "Very romantic."

Gavin leans up, kissing him, a hand on his chest moving down to the hem of his shirt.

"Gav?" He says quietly, pulling back. "Are you trying to have sex with me in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"And here I thought you were telling the truth when you said romance."

Gavin laughs, "Tomorrow is Lover's Day and I know we aren't going to be able to spend it together, but I thought our Valentine’s Day wasn't great so…"

"I thought we redid Valentine's Day already."

"I want to do it again," Gavin whispers, kissing him once before moving down to his neck. "And again. And maybe a third and fourth time."

"Probably a fifth time, too?"

"And definitely a sixth time."

"I don't know if you have it in you."

Connor feels Gavin's lips quirk into a smile against his skin, "Well, you'll definitely have it in _you."_

Connor scoffs at the joke, but he lets Gavin lift him up onto the counter, the hands under his shirt. He'd be stupid to say he didn't miss this. Gavin's jokes, his hands, his lips. And he knows it’s always going to be him. No matter what, he’s going to be in love with Gavin. Despite his stupid jokes and his vulgar humor. Connor feels sure of himself, feels incredibly lucky, too, that he’s found his soul mate.

  
  


“Oh,” Gavin says, breathless and laughing, falling against Connor’s chest. “I guess I did have it in me.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Try it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against his neck. “Then you’ll definitely never have it in you again.”

“You’re the worst,” Connor says, squirming away from him, but he’s laughing as Gavin chases him down with kisses. “And that was definitely more than two sexual innuendos. You went very far past your monthly limit.”

“I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? I might have it in me again.”

“I hate you,” Connor whispers, but he tips Gavin’s chin up and kisses him. “I hate you _so_ much.”

  
  


_April 25th_

Gavin is tugged forward by Marshmallow, his pace quickening as he moves down the street, casting a glance over his shoulder at Connor who doesn’t even try to keep up. Sumo doesn’t like to race through his walks. He goes at a leisurely pace, and Connor isn’t going to force him to meet up with Gavin. But when they reach the park to the stable familiar grounds, Marshmallow slows down and Connor moves alongside Gavin, his free hand hanging around Gavin’s shoulders.

Connor can’t believe he hadn’t thought of this before—conning Hank into letting him leave early on some of his days to walk the dogs. Daniel doesn’t seem to mind either, coming in early to take his place. Not that Sumo’s is always in such a high demand for baked goods that someone needs to be baking at every possible moment. That doesn’t stop them, though.

“Con?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think last month was necessary?” Gavin asks. “For us to move forward?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that, so instead he pauses in their walk to press a kiss against his forehead and pull him a little closer to his side. Marshmallow and Sumo tug on their leashes to keep going forward, and they both oblige in their wishes, but Connor can’t find words to answer Gavin’s question, even when the conversation finally shifts into something else.

Should he be grateful? Should he think it’s a good thing that they nearly broke up, only to come back together?

He hated it. He still regrets letting Gavin leave, and he regrets letting it last as long as he did. But he still has Gavin. They’ve improved from the last few months, too. But was it necessary?

Maybe. Probably.

If they had gone longer being angry and upset and broken, they probably wouldn’t have gotten back together. Connor probably would’ve accepted that they were beyond repair.

“…and she cut in front of me. The bitch.”

“You’ve told this story before,” Connor says quietly.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“And you aren’t allowed to call her a bitch anymore,” he says. “You’re her only friend now.”

“Technically she’s _my_ only friend,” Gavin says. “Plenty of people probably like her.”

“Except you.”

“Who the fuck cares about my opinion?” Gavin asks. “Besides you?”

“Oh, you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Connor replies. “I don’t care about your opinion at all.”

“Fuckin’ jerk.”

“Says the guy who stood me up on our first date two years ago.”

“Sorry,” Gavin says. “About... everything.”

“It’s okay,” Connor replies.

It’s okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what was happening for the first three chapters of this but my guys we are back on the fluff track (for now)
> 
> \+ the song they were dancing to was "if we all die tomorrow" by tom rosenthal. i know it's not necessary to know this information but i'm putting it here regardless.


End file.
